In the Dungeons
by amidtheflowers
Summary: After Hermione sees Ron with Lavender after the Quidditch match, she breaks down. But what she sees that night deep in the Hogwarts dungeons will tie her to a certain blonde boy forever.
1. Chapter 1

I've been a fan of Draco and Hermione for quite a while now, and I think it's time I made a story out of it. I plan on actually finishing this fic; the others I've written I've kind of left them hanging, but that's because I made chapters on the spot and didn't really plan out what I wanted the story to be. But this one, I've got a full-length plot down, so no worries.

**Things to consider**: Set in Half-Blood Prince. Voldemort hasn't recruited Draco yet to kill Dumbledore. It's just plain old smarmy Malfoy here. _Some scenes you might recognize from the books/movies, but they're out of order to fit the story._

Rated M for a reason.

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs solely to J.K. Rowling, but this plot line belongs to me.**

* * *

><p>Flying, twittering birds zoomed in the air before darting headfirst into an incredulous red-head. He moved just in time to dodge the suicidal birds, which jammed into the stone wall behind him and became a mass of feathers. His eyes round as saucers, he turned back around to stare at the girl who sent them after him.<p>

Hermione met his eyes for a second and then looked away, and she felt Harry's hand rub her back comfortingly.

"She's mental, she is," Ron said wondrously, and left when Lavender Brown returned to grab his hand, and the pair disappeared.

"Ignore him," Harry said, but Hermione didn't hear. Her head was swimming, her heart was pounding and she felt a mixture of anger, hatred, jealousy, betrayal, and extreme sadness.

"No," she sniffed. Wiping her tears, she looked up at Harry. "No, he's right. He can be with whoever he wants to be. It's not like—it's not like we were together or anything, I never-I never did anything, and you know, it's not like I expected him to be with me—"

"He's a git," Harry said dismissively. "And you're not to blame. I'm not daft, Hermione. I knew you liked him, and I knew he liked you. He's just an ass for going with whatever girl throws herself on him." Harry added, "And you are not like that. You have self-respect."

Hermione smiled. "Maybe a bit too much." She shook her head as she felt fresh tears well in her eyes. "It just _hurts_."

"I know," Harry said, patting her back again. "I know."

xxx

Harry left her after she'd insisted she needed to be alone for some time to clear her head. And she desperately needed it. Not that she wasn't grateful for Harry, he _had_ made her feel better and had been there when she needed comfort the most.

_Damn that stupid prick!_ Hermione thought angrily as she started pacing, preparing to head back to the dormitory. Her sadness had in quick succession turned into absolute fury. How dare he kiss Lavender in front of everyone like that, as if she were some prize? As if he hadn't known Hermione was there too, watching him? For goodness sake, he didn't even _like _Lavender, barely even _spoke_ to her these past six years at Hogwarts! She knew Ron's existence was driven on basic needs, like when he would stuff his face with food and play Quidditch with Harry instead of studying for his exams. This, as it turned out, was included among his impulses. Very much like a cave man.

_Me want snog. Me get now. _The corners of Hermione's went up.

Prick.

Sighing, she wiped her face a few times and attempted to mat down her hair, which surely had to be sticking up from all directions from her upset evening. She had to remain strong. She had to compose herself and not be affected by Ron's superior stupidity. He wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth the tears.

She just had to keep telling herself that.

As she began to ascend the grand staircase, laughter erupted from the entrance hall of Hogwarts. Pausing, she left the stairs behind and slowly crept into the hall, yet heard nothing but silence. She shivered and realized how late it actually was. The halls were deserted, and she was way past the curfew. Good thing she was a prefect.

She was about to turn around when a sudden muffled shriek resounded against the walls, and she knew someone was out of bed. First years, she guessed, trying to have a good time. It was without too much surprise that she realized the sounds were coming from the dungeons.

_Slytherins_, she thought wearily.

"Lumos," she muttered and descended into the dungeons. It grew colder the deeper she went down, and she drew herself together, steadying her wand high in the air. She was in no mood to see amorous underclassmen. It was also possible a few daring students wanted to explore the halls at night, as any first-year secretly craved. Defying the rules was almost instinct at Hogwarts.

She turned a corner and strained her ears, trying to follow any sound she heard. _Come on_, she thought. At this point, it would be the greatest highlight of her night, catching a Slytherin and deducting points. Hermione normally wasn't this sadistic, but considering the circumstances, for once she'd like to see someone else suffer.

She nearly gave up and turned back when she heard it. A hiss came from the left and she rounded the corner. The torches were very dimly lit on the sides of the dungeon walls, almost as if it were done on purpose. Hermione lowered her wand and crept quietly. Hearing another noise, she walked slowly until the sounds became impossible to miss. Behind a large, winged gargoyle, she saw two figures.

"Oh," a soft, feminine voice sighed, which quickly was muffled into a moan. Straightening, she set her mind on prefect-mode and prepared to charge on them.

She stopped short when she saw silvery-blonde hair, hair she distinctly recognized. She peered behind the gargoyle as heat flooded her cheeks.

The boy's hands would not stop moving. They were everywhere—under the girl's shirt, sliding down the abdomen, thrusting underneath the skirt—and just as his hands wouldn't stop moving, neither would his lips. He was devouring the poor girl before him, and she was taking it all. She squeaked as the arm under her skirt jerked up, and it quickly became a succession of gasps and stifled cries. Hermione watched his arm move rapidly, hidden behind the folds of the girl's skirt. She lifted her leg and wrapped it desperately around his hips, widening herself. He sped up and the girl's hips were started to meet his hand, and his lips traveled to her neck. He bit softly, and that was precisely when the girl began to wail in ecstasy. The boy's movements slowed, and his head turned, grey eyes latching onto Hermione's face.

Hermione felt herself going numb. Finally, she spun around and darted out of the dungeon, up the grand staircase, and to the Gryffindor tower.

"Parsnips," she choked out and the portrait swung open. Stumbling inside, she bounded to the girl's dormitory and went immediately into the bathroom, locked herself in, and reached under her skirt, dropping her panties down. They hadn't touched the floor yet when her fingers began to pump furiously inside her, and Hermione leaned against the wall, hips moving to meet her own strokes. Her thumb brushed against her clit and she shuddered, a low sound escaping her lips. She swirled around it and pushed harder into herself until her fingers were completely soaked. She kept going, and it wasn't until she reached her climax that she broke down crying.

Xxx

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Parvati Patil asked with a concerned voice. She gazed at Hermione sympathetically as Hermione fiddled with the plate of eggs before her. She smiled.

"I'm alright, honestly," Hermione assured. "I have a few tests today, so I'm a bit nervous."

Parvati nodded and resumed eating. Padma was sitting beside her when she leaned over the table and wrinkled her nose. "God, they're at it _again_."

Hermione didn't need to turn to see what she was referring to. Ron and Lavender had been attached at the lip for the past half hour. They only broke apart long enough for Ron to stuff his mouth with some toast, and then they resumed.

Parvati nudged Padma hard and she yelped. Hermione smiled. "It's okay. Honestly, it doesn't bother me at all."

Parvati looked at her grimly. "Hermione...it's alright, you don't have to, you know...be brave around us. We saw you leave after the party in the common room yesterday, and I think about the whole dormitory heard you crying last night in the bathroom. If we didn't think you liked him before, it was sort of confirmed last night."

Hermione said nothing as heat crept up her cheeks. If they had known that her crying was partially mixed with a hard, dizzying orgasm, they probably wouldn't think of her the same way. Hermione herself didn't think of herself the same way. She was ashamed of how she'd reacted last night. She had fled from her duties as a prefect and indulged in pleasuring herself with the knowledge that nobody would probably do it for her in the future. Hell, if she couldn't snag Ron, what prospects did she have left?

And when those grey eyes had seen her watching...Hermione didn't want to think about it. She would deny everything. She had never gone down to the dungeons, she had never seen their foreplay, and she _definitely_ had never run away to pleasure herself out of self-pity. No, she'd never do such a degrading thing.

She simply had to avoid a few people for the next year and a half.

She took a bite out of her eggs as her eyes swept across the hall. He probably wouldn't even know it was her; it had been dark and it was hard enough for her to recognize who he was. Of course, they had been smartly concealed behind a giant gargoyle, so naturally she couldn't see very well in the dim lighting. No, most likely he didn't know it was her.

She noticed someone staring. At the Slytherin table, she saw a pair of cold grey eyes watching her from across the Great Hall. She stiffened when she saw the silken blonde hair, expressionless face, and the Slytherin logo on his robes. He began to smile.

Hermione quickly looked away, blood pooling in her cheeks.

Oh yes, he definitely knew.

Xxx

When Draco Malfoy had been in the dungeons late last night, he felt like hexing himself until he lost all motor function. Victoria Hestley had been flirting with him this past week, and at first Draco had encouraged her demonstrations. Though she herself was not a Slytherin—a Ravenclaw, in fact—Draco tended not to care which House the girl was in, especially when said girl wanted to get in his pants.

And at first he _really_ wanted to shag her—she was bloody beautiful! Victoria was two years below him, but he didn't really care: he was in for the hunt.

But when she had actually started talking to him everyday, telling him about her _feelings_ and her classes and complaining_ all the time_, he began doubting whether the pursuit was worth his time. He loved bedding the ladies, but they were usually not so—annoying.

Victoria had arranged the meeting last night, insisting she wanted to feel "dangerous" and be with him in the open, in the dungeons. He had never been so absurd with his flings and usually kept them in the bedroom like a normal person, but she would have none of it. At that point, he really just wanted to get it over with. As horrid as a person he was, he was never happy with leaving a woman unsatisfied. And he planned on satisfying the Ravenclaw right out of her.

And that was precisely when he saw Granger.

Victoria didn't see her, as he had just made her come viciously on his deft fingers and was temporarily impaired. He had seen something move at the corner of his eyes, and when he turned his head he saw her standing hidden behind the gargoyle, just barely visible. But it was unmistakable that it had been her.

And to his greater surprise, she had fled.

The corners of Draco's lips turned. He'd never expected Granger to be the type to run away from these things, especially anything that involved him. He'd expected her to pounce on the glorious opportunity that'd basically been handed to her on a silver platter. And yet, she had done nothing. She had run away.

And that was exactly what made him so happy.

After she'd fled, Draco had fucked the brains out of the fourth-year in front of him. He honestly didn't think he would; his intentions had been to give her just a taste of what was to come. But she had wanted more. And more. And he shrugged and let his body take over. He had to place a quick Silencing charm around them as Victoria could not control her screams from his vicious minstrations. Afterwards they parted on cordial terms: they both had gotten what they'd wanted from the beginning, and he was certain neither of them wanted to see each other again. It purely for the shag.

But throughout the whole thing, he didn't stop thinking about Granger. How perfect this was. He'd been waiting for a chance to have some fun, and she'd basically begged him to make her life miserable. She was the most infuriating witch he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting at Hogwarts, and the loathing he felt for her was unfathomable. He resented her, wanted her to beg him to spare her, have mercy, forgive her...

Draco sat in the Great Hall, helping himself to some bacon. He watched Granger silently as she ate, making a great effort to smile at the Patil twins. His eyes wandered across the Gryffindor table and saw Saint Potter making googly-eyes at the young Weasley girl, laughing absurdly and spilling pumpkin juice down the front of his robes, making Draco chuckle. It wasn't until his eyes fell on Ron Weasley that his lips turned sour. He was voraciously attacking the lips of Lavender Brown, parting a few times to take a swig of juice and start the process all over again. He shook his head in disgust. Not only was he disgusting when he ate, but his snogging skills were inhumanely sloppy. He wondered how Brown found him so attractive.

His eyes traveled from Ron to Hermione, and he smirked. Or Hermione, for that matter.

Which made things all the more perfect.

Suddenly Hermione looked up and met his eyes. They stared at each other for a while, and images flitted in his mind of the next few months. He began to smile at the thought, and watched as Hermione's cheeks became deeply flushed. She looked away and began to rise, gathering her things hastily and making for the door. Just then it became time to head to the day's classes, but Hermione had disappeared yet again.

Oh yes, Draco Malfoy thought with pride. He was going to have delicious fun this year.

Xxx

"What we have here is a curious little potion," Professor Slughorn announced with a little jump. He was smiling mischievously. "It is called Felix Felicies or, as some may call it—"

"Liquid Luck," Hermione finished. Professor Slughorn smiled happily. "Yes, Miss Granger! _Liquid Luck_. Drink this, and all your endeavors will prove successful—that is, until the potion wears off, of course. The student who brews the Draft of Living Death the best shall be rewarded with one vial of Liquid Luck. Turn to page ftwenty-four in your text books, and begin!"

Hermione scrambled to set up her cauldron, rifling through the pages of her advanced potions book until she reached the instructions for brewing the Draft of Living Death. It was essential that she acquired this potion. She knew she would need this, especially after the horrid affair she'd experienced last night. Especially knowing that any moment Draco Malfoy would start tormenting her with the knowledge that she'd seen him pleasuring a girl and had done nothing about it. She would be stripped of her prefect-cy, as would Malfoy, most likely, but she had a feeling he didn't care about his position as prefect for the Slytherin House. And if Malfoy were to acquire the vial...

No, she wouldn't let that happen. Pulling her hair back, Hermione began cutting her ingredients.

Xxx

Draco nearly laughed at the intensity of Hermione's brewing. She was not holding back, trying with all her might to create the most pristine Draft of Living Death. She most likely knew he was trying his best to acquire the little potion as well. Just thinking about it made his mind buzz. Were he to possess Felix Felicies, the possibilities were endless. He could drink to humiliating Hermione in front of the school, scarring Hermione for the rest of her life, shagging her and then leaving her defiled and unwanted, just as she already was, seeing as her life fucked her on a daily basis.

Shaking his head, he carefully started to cut the sopophorous bean.

Xxx

After a ten minutes, Hermione could take no more of it.

"Honestly, Ron, what are you doing there!"

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "These sodding instructions make no sense! And some git wrote all over the book, the edges are frayed and the binding's falling apart—I don't know what I'm doing here!"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she stared at the tattered text book. He was right—it was in horrendous condition. He and Harry didn't have their own potions books yet, so Slughorn had advised them to take any book they found in the cupboard. Harry had a clean, brand new Advanced Potions book in front of him, whereas Ron wound up with the short stick.

Had she still felt good feelings towards him, she would have offered to trade books. But right now she wanted nothing more than to see his cauldron explode in his face, and for her to receive the vial of Felix Felicies. Right now though, she was hardly near successful. She hadn't gotten past the first instruction yet.

A sopophorous bean zoomed past her and landed on the table that Ron, Harry, and Hermione were working on. She stiffened when she saw a sleek form saunter up to their table.

"Sorry about that," Malfoy drawled, though his expression was more irritated than mocking. He clearly seemed to be having just as much trouble brewing the potion as everyone else, and his hair seemed a bit disheveled. He leaned against the table slightly, his potions book in one hand and the other outstretched towards the sopophorous bean. "Mind if I have my bean back."

Ron picked it up and inspected it for a second. "Looks like you haven't been able to cut it either."

"The fucking thing won't break," Malfoy said irritatedly. "I don't plan to win this little challenge." Hermione smiled faintly and then quickly made herself expressionless, focusing on her cauldron, but Draco hadn't missed it.

"Same," Ron admitted. "This stupid book's all messed up." Hermione looked up to gape at the pair. Why were they talking as if they didn't want to rip each other's guts apart? Why were they holding a conversation that didn't end in "Weaselby" or "twat"? What the hell was going on?

Malfoy inspected it and shrugged. "Do you want to trade?"

Hermione was floored. Draco couldn't help but feel smug inside as he saw Hermione's mouth drop open even more. He wasn't lying—he truly did not expect to win this. Making the Draft of Living Death proved to be far more difficult than he thought, and his hopes in potions were completely erased. It made no difference to him if he had a new book or the piece of garbage Weasley was holding.

"Are you serious?" Ron eyed him suspiciously, and Harry joined him. He wasn't looking too happy either, having his best friend speaking to the one person he truly despised at Hogwarts.

Malfoy nodded. "It makes no difference to me. I'm going to fail either way."

With shock from both Harry and Hermione, the pair watched Ron and Malfoy exchange books. Ron dropped the sopophorous bean in Malfoy's hand, and Malfoy winked, then walked back to his station. Ron turned around to see Harry and Hermione glaring at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Harry hissed. "He probably jinxed his book so that anyone who isn't him gets warts when trying to read it."

"I feel fine," Ron answered as he began to sift through the pages. "Though I'm quite a bit surprised too. At least now I don't have to order a new potions book. Mum and Dad are having enough trouble as is." His eyes flickered to Hermione. Glancing away, she managed to get a drop of liquid from the bean and quickly trickled it into her cauldron. She didn't dare speak to Malfoy the entire time he was at their table. Any normal circumstance and she would've told him to sod off. But now...

"How's your potion coming, Hermione?" Ron asked hesitantly.

Hermione looked up and was taken aback to see Ron smiling. It was then she noticed he wasn't smiling at _her _but at Lavender, who was behind Hermione across the room. Her face blank, Hermione threw in the Valerian roots. The cauldron erupted in flames and the smile disappeared from Ron's face as he stepped back, the flames quickly simmering into a softly smoking brew. Hermione smiled. "It's perfect."

xxx

Draco could not believe his luck. The moment he started using Weasley's tattered potions book, he began to take note of the scribblings the previous owner made all along the margins. They were guidelines to make the potion easier to replicate. Weasley clearly didn't have the brain capacity to follow these, more less be capable reading any instruction. But seeing as Malfoy already assumed he would fail, he decided to spice things up a bit and see what Mr. Half-Blood had in store for him, or so he called himself on the inside cover of the book.

It was a good thing he decided to take that route, because he was almost certain he had created the best potion of his life.

"Time's up everybody, let me see your potions!" Professor Slughorn boomed. He began walking around the room, nodding approvingly for some and saying "Better luck next time, my dear" to everyone else. He reached Hermione's cauldron and smiled. "Very good, _very_ good effort here, Miss Granger," Slughorn remarked with a pat on her back. Malfoy couldn't help but notice the small satisfaction in Hermione's expression, but in the process of making her potion she had gone from frizzy to completely frazzled. Her hair was sticking up from all ends as if she had run her hands through them dozens of times. No matter, she had the smug appearance of winning this challenge. Her eyes briefly flickered to his, as if saying, _I won._

Then Slughorn arrived at his cauldron. It was a smooth, clear mixture, and Slughorn looked surprised. "This looks absolutely _remarkable_, Mr. Malfoy! Let me just..." Slughorn dropped a leaf inside the liquid. It quickly burned into nothing. "Why—it is perfect!" he heard a chorus of groans around him, and he looked at Hermione. She was dumbstruck. He tore his gaze from her when Professor Slughorn took him by the hand. "Mr. Malfoy, I believe you just won yourself your very own vial of Liquid Luck!"

The classroom dully clapped as he held the tiny vile in his smooth hands. Harry didn't bother lifting his hands, and Ron looked slightly sour. Malfoy smiled and looked around the classroom. His eyes landed on Granger, who looked positively livid, and he did what he knew would infuriate her the most.

He winked, and tapped the glass bottle with a smile.

Xxx

Hermione brustled past the other students, determined to go back to the common room as fast as she could. Images of what had just happened flashed in her mind.

Hermione was cleaning up her work station and gathering the spare ingredients into separate vials. Harry was waiting for her but she insisted he go on without her, for she always took a copious amount of time making sure everything was in order.

"Miss Granger, you will to come to my Christmas party tomorrow evening, right?" Professor Slughorn reminded her lightly. She widened her eyes. She'd completely forgotten.

"Why y-yes, of course, Professor," she smiled assuredly, and Slughorn positively glowed.

"Oh it will be just _spectacular_! Never will there have been such a grand function at Hogwarts since the first Tri-Wizard tournament! I will see you there, then, Miss Granger!"

Hermione smiled, but it quickly faded when she remembered she didn't have a date whatsoever. She thought hard. She glared at Ron, who was still gathering his things with Lavender by his side. Perhaps she would take Cormac McClaggen. That would piss him off like nothing else.

She was emptying her cauldron when she heard a soft voice whisper, "But I thought you'd be ready for that? You're so wonderful, I-I just assumed you'd already, you know..."

"Oh, well, yeah, of course I'm _ready_, I just don't think you are for that kind of—"

"Oh but I _am_, Won-Won," the hushed voice whispered fervently. "I love spending time with you."

"Snogging isn't really spending time, I think..."

"Don't worry about these things so much. It's just, you're so wonderful, Ron. Truly, you are. I...I would do anything for you."

Hermione heard a rakish chuckle. "Well, when you put it that way...yeah I guess, why not?"

She'd heard enough. Slamming her books into her bag, she gave a lasting glare at the duo who were a few stations in back of her, and sped out of the room.

"Do you think she heard us?" Ron said with a frown, guilt hitting his stomach.

"Let's not think about that," she teased, and lurched up to bring her lips to his, and Ron forgot all about Hermione storming off.

"Screw you," she said to herself as she climbed up the staircase. "Screw you, screw you, you selfish, disgusting bastard—"

"I hope that's not me you're talking about," a lazy voice drawled behind her. She turned to see Malfoy easily falling in step with her. "Had a fun day in potions, Mudblood?"

"Get out of my face," she muttered, and rounded a corner.

"Ho, ho, not so fast there, Granger, I just want to talk," Malfoy caught her arm and they stood beside a wall. She jerked her arm furiously.

"Let go before I hex you."

"If you run away I will grab you again," he warned darkly, then released her arm. She lurched forward and tried to escape but he caught her wrist and pushed her into the wall. "Ah, ah, see, now I can't trust you. Shame, now I have to hold on to your filthy clothes, I feel my hand getting dirtier already—"

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione hissed. He smirked.

"Nothing, just an answer to a tiny little question." He smiled inwardly when he felt her pulse increase from his grip on her wrist. She said nothing.

"What I'm curious about, and correct me if I'm wrong," Malfoy began, "I'd like to know why you were watching me fuck another student last night and then ran away."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb, Granger, we're both grown adults here," Malfoy said.

"Let go of me."

"Not until you answer my question."

A hard slap forced his face to the side, but it only made him grip onto her wrist tighter, snatching her other hand in his free on. He pulled her into a deserted hall as she tried to wriggle free from him, and he pushed her against the cold wall. Hermione shivered and inhaled deeply when he held her tightly against the wall using not just his hand but his body as well. She hissed a breath in and turned her head, for he was dangerously close to her. Her movements ceased when he pushed her further against the wall, and she stilled.

"Watch yourself, Granger," Malfoy growled. Hermione turned her head to glare up at him. He was almost a head taller than her. She wriggled again and he sang his hips against hers, and she stilled again, a gasp erupting from her throat.

"Get. Off." she choked out.

"You need to remember one thing about me, Granger," Draco said in a low, threatening voice. "I get what I want. _Always. _I don't care about anyone else but me. I won't go out of my way to harm you unless you directly affect me." _Which she had done already,_ Malfoy thought bitterly, reflecting on the past six years. Vengeance was always sweetest when taken with pride.

"Now I'm asking you a simple question, and I would answer it if I were you."

Hermione felt nothing less than pure loathing for the hideous creature looming above her. He was ruthless, disgusting, horribly self-centered, and would probably do anything to make others feel worthless.

An idea sparked in her head.

"Will you come to Slughorn's Christmas Party tomorrow with me?" Hermione blurted.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Reviews are most welcome! Please disregard any grammatical errors-I've stayed up till 4 in the morning to finish this!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

At that moment, he wanted to laugh.

There she was, distressed and upset and glancing everywhere but him. And he liked the feeling of pressing against her, mostly because she hated it so much. He could tell she was itching to reach for her wand and give him a good hex, but he held her wrists tightly in his grasp.

He knew the moment something in her changed. Her demeanor relaxed, and he saw a transformation take place in her eyes. Something had dawned on her, and he wanted to know what it was.

"Will you go to Slughorn's Christmas party tomorrow with me?" she blurted out, gazing at him with intensity. She seemed completely serious and was holding her breath, waiting for his reply.

He stared for a moment then let her go, repulsed. "I'm vile but I'm not _that _vile," Draco said, stepping back from her and gazing at her with a mixture of incredulity and faint disgust. "As if I'd want to go anywhere with _you_."

She seemed to catch herself and she glanced away from him. Her face hardened, and her eyes snapped up to meet his. "Too afraid to step out with a _mudblood_ like me?"

Draco raised his eyebrow. "You said it, not me." He whirled away from her and headed back to the grand staircase. Hermione followed behind him, fuming.

"Well this is a classic-case scenario. Draco Malfoy running scared from a Gryffindor. Almost tops the ferret affair, but not quite." Hermione halted and nearly fell over when Malfoy stopped abruptly. "Then again," Hermione continued as she saw the side of Malfoy's mouth twitch. "That's something you've been doing since our first year."

Hermione did not remember how fast it happened, but the second she blinked she found herself hovering in the air and crashing against the top of the stairs. She whipped her wand out but Malfoy was quicker, easily casting a spell that flicked it away from her. She stifled a groan as her back grew sore at the harsh contact against the marble steps, and Malfoy hovered over her.

She couldn't find it in herself to move; in all her five years of fighting against all the evils she, Harry, and Ron went against, she felt constricted in her body as fright froze her muscles. At that moment she had never seen Malfoy look so livid.

"_Muffliato_."

Her eyes widened and then darted to her fallen wand, but it was too far up the stairs for her to reach quickly. Her eyes narrowed.

"Going to hurt me?" Hermione challenged, her voice quavering just slightly. "Try it on someone who cares."

His eyes glazed as the tip of his wand touched lightly against her neck. He crouched slightly in front of her, meeting her face-to-face. "That," Draco said quietly, "is just the beginning." The wand pushed painfully into her. "I cannot _wait_ until the day comes," Draco hissed, moving close enough that she could feel his breath on her, "when I will hear you _scream_ because of me."

"You make me sick," Hermione spat.

"And yet you asked me on a date."

"That was for _Professor Slughorn's_—"

"And what ever made you think I'd accept?" Draco interjected. He stared at her, his gray eyes pinning hers. "You saw me fuck a girl after hours. You did nothing about it. You're slipping Granger, and I will delight in seeing you destroy yourself this year." His grey eyes lightened slightly, and a smirk broke on his face. "I'll go with you." The pressure against her neck disappeared as he stepped away from her, adjusting his robes. "But don't say I didn't warn you; it's going to be a hell of a night."

Hermione swallowed, rising shakily from the stairs. "I don't think I want to go with you anymore."

"Then you shouldn't have asked. I've already started planning it." His mouth twisted in a wicked smile. "It will be very entertaining." With a final smirk, he left.

Hermione groaned inwardly, and ran a hand through her unkempt hair. What the hell did she just get into?

**xxx **

The day passed without any more interactions with Malfoy, or anybody else for that matter. Ron, Harry, and Ginny were out on the fields for Quidditch practice, and most of the Gryffindor common room was empty as the weather was stunning and the students had the sense to cherish it.

Night arrived quickly as Hermione had buried herself in homework, and barely noticed sleepy students trudging through the portrait hole and making their way to their beds. After rereading her essay for History of Magic one last time, she set the rolls of parchment down and leaned against the sofa.

The common room was quiet. The windows were pitch black, and only the fireplace lit the room with soft light. Suddenly, the portrait swung open and a figure climbed inside the Gryffindor common room. A second came in, and they were speaking in hushed voices, then a third and fourth joined. Hermione sat up, squinting curiously at who had arrived so late.

Harry's jet-black hair came into view, then Ginny's flaming hair as she tossed it behind her shoulder. Ron's lanky body stumbled into the common room, with Lavender Brown attached to his arm. Hermione stiffened when the party realized they were not alone in the common room.

"Hey, Herm—"Jumping up from the sofa, Hermione marched towards the portrait hole and began to crawl out.

"Hermione, where are you going?" Harry called.

She turned her head, making sure to catch Ron's eye. "Prefects rounds. Unlike some people, I take the authority Professor Dumbledore gave us seriously."

And with that, she slammed the portrait of the Fat Lady behind her.

**xxx**

Malfoy was not very pleased that he was on prefect duty tonight. Though it made him feel smug that he was given the prefect position (unlike Potter), it wasn't all fun and games. Especially with the Slytherin house, there were far too many idiotic first-years who thought they owned the place, and frequently snuck out in the dead of night to wreak havoc. Thus, he was forced to come out every other day and make the little shits go back to bed.

After scouring the dungeons, Draco proceeded up the grand staircase. He went to each floor, scanning the place quickly, then left. It was after a few floors that when he was about to turn to leave, he heard a small sound.

He thought he'd almost imagined it. Staying very still, he strained his ears to hear it again. Nothing.

And then he heard it again, and Draco whirled around, pinpointing it to a large, closed door. It seemed to be the girl's lavatory. He felt a bit strange barging into a girl's bathroom; for all he knew a professor could be in there and—and that was all he allowed himself to think of.

Either way, it would be understood that Draco was merely on his prefect duties…and his curiosity was getting the better of him. Why go to an abandoned floor's bathroom in the dead of night, when each house's dormitories were supplied with their own?

"Lumos," he muttered, and gently opened the door.

It was a disaster of a bathroom, much to Draco's shock, as he always assumed a girl's bathroom would be the pinnacle of perfection. No, this one had slabs of marble strewn in the corners, tiles kept uncleaned for decades, and stalls with the doors off their hinges. He passed by the sinks and his eye caught the most unusual thing: a serpent along the side of the faucet.

He saw movement and he immediately stilled, his eyes going wide.

"_Knox._"

A girl was crying very, very softly. And then growling, and then moaning, and then crying again. Her hands fisted into her hair as if to tear it out, and then her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"You're better than this," he heard her chastise herself very angrily. And very, very sadly, she ducked her head and moved her arm, moaning again.

_Granger?_

Draco did not dare breathe. He couldn't believe how quickly the tables had turned. He was witnessing Hermione Granger pleasure herself in a girl's bathroom in the dead of night.

The irony was almost comical. He debated whether to barge in and humiliate her, but instead he found himself drifting closer to her. He caught full view of her body; she was sitting on the tiled floor leaning against the outside of a stall's wall. Her legs were apart, the skirt hitched up but not enough for Draco's liking; he saw a thin, flimsy fabric around her ankles, and the top buttons of her blouse were unbuttoned, giving a portion of a view of the top of her breasts.

Her head slammed against the wall as her back arched, hips rising in the air to meet her fingers' heavy thrusts. She moaned softly again and her hand moved faster, hips trembling. Her other hand snaked up to her top and disappeared behind her blouse and suddenly she cried out, hips frozen in the air as wave after wave hit her, her head turning to her side in ecstasy.

In normal circumstances, seeing a girl pleasure herself did very little for Draco. It might have goaded him on to shag the girl, but never in his life did he stay stark still, watching in awe as Hermione lost herself in oblivion. Her breaths were shallow, her body relaxing.

He didn't know what to do. So he did what Granger had done when she'd caught him at night, and quietly turned around and left the girl's bathroom.

It became increasingly difficult to walk normally as his pants had grown tight halfway through his march back out, and all he could think about was taking Hermione's legs roughly in his hands, yanking her onto him, and pounding into her until he went mad.

"For fuck's sake," Draco growled, and nudged the bastard roughly. There was no way in hell was he going to jerk off to Hermione Granger.

After much difficulty, Draco managed to get back to the Slytherin common room and toss around in his bed until he fell asleep, the image of Hermione Granger haunting him.

**xxx**

Hermione was starting to make a nasty habit out of herself. During her rounds something had set her off that reminded her of Ron, and suddenly she found herself in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, panties down, and making herself come again and again. She hadn't even been thinking of Ron during it; it actually made her forget all about the red-headed boy altogether. Which was why pleasuring herself was happening more and more frequently.

Hermione wasn't even the type to do something so personal, at all. Hardly ever did she indulge in such fantasies, let alone make herself orgasm two days in a row. Had she been in a right state of mind, she would have died in shame. Right now, she didn't really care about anything, except ways to forget her feelings for someone who was too busy plunging his tongue down someone else's throat.

The next morning, Hermione's mind was occupied by the Potions quiz that would take place, and the dreaded evening with Malfoy at Professor Slughorn's Christmas party. She nearly shuddered at the thought of being escorted by the blond, smirking devil. What propelled her to ask him, she didn't know. She loathed him with all her heart. He had made fun of her, humiliated her, and bullied anybody that wasn't Crabbe, Goyle, or Blaise.

But the image she got of Ron's face when he realized she was taking his worst enemy to the party, it was a chance she had to take. She _had _been considering Cormac McLaggen, seeing as he would've beaten Ron for the position of Keeper on the Quidditch team, had Hermione not interfered and used a Confundus Charm on him to ensure Ron received the title.

But an arch enemy was always better.

Hermione was about to take a sip of pumpkin juice when she noticed a pair of grey eyes studying her intently. Her eyes caught the angular face of Malfoy, his expression unfathomable. What was he thinking? She grew hot under his gaze, his eyes scrutinizing her as if he knew something she did not.

Tearing her eyes away, she forced herself to ignore the Slytherin for the remainder of her breakfast.

**xxx**

"Are you sure you don't want me to help you with your hair?" Ginny implored. Hermione rolled her eyes as she faced herself in the mirror.

"I'm quite alright, Gin. Don't worry yourself about it." The hair in question was currently a mass of unkempt curls flying in every direction, but Hermione was taking her time. She was in a soft pink dress, and currently was working on her makeup.

"But I could help save time, just look at my own hair! Imagine this silky smoothness in your possession. I can give you that!"

Shaking her head, Hermione grasped her wand and with a flick of her wrist, cast a charm that transformed her bushy mane into springy, brown curls that fell delicately around her head. She pinned a few curls to the side and stepped back, staring into the mirror and leaving Ginny speechless.

"And that," Hermione announced finally, "is how it's done."

"Who are you going with, by the way?" Ginny asked as she examined herself in the mirror. "I'm going with Dean Thomas, of course." Hermione glanced at her, and realized how much a woman Ginny had grown into. She had on a sleek black dress with her flaming hair cascading down her shoulders flawlessly.

Hermione glanced back into the mirror, fitting in an earring. "Draco Malfoy."

The silence was deafening. Hermione looked at Ginny and nearly laughed at her gaping mouth.

"You're kidding, right? Tell me you're joking."

"I most certainly am not joking, Ginny."

"But…why?"

Hermione shrugged. "His hair best matched my shoes. I thought it'd go well." Ginny did not laugh, and Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "Do you really have that big of a problem with this?"

"Not really," Ginny admitted, "I just wish you wouldn't force yourself to go out with jerks like Malfoy because of my _idiot_ brother. He's not even worth it, Hermione!"

"I know," Hermione responded slowly. "He's not worth it at all."

"Exactly! Why don't you go with Harry or something?"

"Harry's already got a load on his plate than to drag himself around with me," Hermione said. "And I'm not backing out of this one. I want to go with Malfoy."

"Hermione. You hate the guy. Everybody does." Ginny said plainly.

"Yes, well…it's already decided. And I _really_ need someone on my side right now," Hermione said, turning around to face her. Ginny's expression softened.

"Of course."

They both straightened their dresses a bit before turning around and heading to the dungeons.

**xxx**

Draco was waiting a few feet from the entrance hall when Hermione finally arrived. For a second he couldn't recognize her, reminiscent to when she had arrived at the Yule Ball in their fourth year. She had looked spectacular, dancing along side with Victor Krum effortlessly, and now was quite the same.

She grew uncomfortable under his stare, and she rubbed her arm nervously as she neared him. Clearing her throat she said, "Shall we go, then?"

Masking his face with indifference, he turned to the dungeons entrance without waiting for her. Hermione scowled and marched behind him, brown curls bouncing around her.

"I guess common courtesy is out of the question," she muttered to herself.

He paused and looked at her as they reached the door to Slughorn's party. "Don't get your hopes up, Granger."

She grimaced up at him. "Don't worry, I haven't. Can't exactly forget five years of pure loathing, now can you?"

He smirked and said nothing, and swung the door open. He walked in quickly before Hermione could step in, and she clenched her jaw tightly before walking in behind him.

The amount of people packed inside astounded her. Music was strumming softly as if enchanted to play out of thin air, and food and drinks were circulating everywhere. The center was packed, so Malfoy sauntered along the sides with a mild look of amusement etched on his face. Hermione, not knowing what else to do, followed suit.

He picked up a glass of butterbeer that was offered to him and swished the contents in his glass lazily, observing the crowd with boredom. Hermione resumed a post next to him. She felt suddenly very awkward. How does one strike an evening with one of her most hated enemies? Especially one she'd caught shagging some girl at the dead of night without reporting it?

Malfoy felt her unease and chuckled derisively. "Tighten up Granger, the party's hardly started and you're already melting."

"I am _not_," she hissed, casting him a glaring glance and folding her arms. "It's just that there are so many people, and all this noise, it's not at all what I expec—"

"—I'm sorry, did I give the impression that care?" Malfoy interrupted with a scowl. "I'm just your date, Granger, not your pony boy." He drained his cup and threw it behind him, leaving her gaping as he smiled at a pretty fifth year a few feet away.

Angrily Hermione stormed away from him, agitation building up in her. She drew herself a glass of punch when a tap on the shoulder forced her to turn around.

It was Luna Lovegood. "Hello Hermione," she said airily. "Lovely party, isn't it?"

"Fantastic," Hermione replied politely.

"If I may ask, did you arrive with Draco Malfoy?" she questioned, though her attention was on the ceiling as if it had some giant creature crawling along it.

Hermione took a sip of her drink. "Yes, I did."

Luna's eyes snapped to hers. "Oh. I suppose what everyone is talking about is true then."

Hermone's eyes widened. "People are talking about me?"

"I don't really know. Harry mentioned it after you entered," Luna admitted.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Harry asked you to be his date?"

"Yes," she said with a dreamy smile. "He's so nice, don't you agree? Such a good friend."

"Top of the notch," a voice said, entering their conversation. It was Harry himself. Hermione froze, not able to read if his expression was angry or not.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione said pleasantly. "Having a nice evening?"

"The best," Harry answered. "Especially the part where you showed up with _Draco Malfoy!_ Hermione, what were you thinking?"

"Do you have a problem?" Hermione shot.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact I do. If Ron found out—"

"Well then, I guess you should talk to your best friend _Ronald_, shouldn't you? I'm sure you'll have a real good laugh about it," she said bitterly.

"Why don't you go talk to him yourself?" Harry said slowly.

Hermione's eyes grew wide and she turned around in the direction Harry was staring. Right by the door entrance stood Ron, his hand clenched with Ginny's.

"Hermione," Ginny started, her voice wavering. "He-he wouldn't let go, wouldn't let me go with Dean unless I told him who your date was, and—"

Hermione shook her head, and she silenced. All she could do was stare at the furious red-head standing before her.

"Is it true?" he asked in a surprisingly calm voice. Hermione swallowed.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't play stupid," Ron said angrily. "Is it true you're here with that git?"

"You really should stop talking about yourself so harshly, Weaselbee," Malfoy's sardonic voice replied. Hermione turned to look at her left as Malfoy walked to stand beside her. His mouth twisted in a sneer. "Your mum probably says things like that enough. If your mum has that kind of brain capacity, you never know with gingers—"

"You leave her out of it!"

"That's enough!" Hermione shouted. She turned to glare at Ron. "You have no business here, you aren't invited."

"Good thing Ginny's my date, isn't it?" was his quick reply. Hermione stared incredulously at Ron then Ginny, who looked absolutely miserable.

"You…I can't believe you would do that, and to your own sister! Depriving her of her right to have a nice evening with her boyfriend—"

"Is that what that foul piece of ferret is to you, now?" Ron snapped with a note of disgust. "You've really lowered your standards—"

"—And what would you know about my standards, Ronald?" Hermione growled. "Melting your face against Lavender as if she's piece of meat, you're worse than a street rat. You'll just take whatever throws itself at you, won't you?"

"Bravo," Malfoy said with a mix of surprise and appraisal. "Makes you wonder what dumbass thing you did to break up the golden trio so _deliciously_."

Hermione shot Malfoy a penetrating glare. "You keep out of it," Hermione muttered with a hiss.

Ron watched the exchange and shook his head, lip curling in disgust. "_Whore._"

Everyone at the party had been watching with silent interest up until then, and a unanimous gasp echoed around the room as the word passed from Ron's lips. Hermione could only stare, her mind going numb.

_Whore._

A loud bang echoed in the room and Harry, Ginny, and Luna had their wands out, jinxing Ron with spell after spell. Luna had the look of extreme shock and, for the first time, anger. Ron had managed to evade most of the attacks with effective counter curses Hermione did not know he could produce, and suddenly Professor Slughorn came waddling into view as he boomed angrily, "No wand-waving at my party!"

"Fine with me," Harry muttered as he launched himself at Ron before many pairs of hands restrained him, and the next thing that happened drew a gasp of surprise from Hermione.

Malfoy had been silently watching the exchange up until now, then he carefully sauntered next to Ron where he drew not his wand, but his fist. It collided with a loud _smack_ against Ron's jaw, and a circle formed around the pair as they watched the two battle.

It ended as quickly as it started, with the crowd dissipating in an instant as two expert wands waved in the air and pushed the two struggling boys apart.

Professor Snape and Professor Slughorn lowered their wands and grabbed the necks of Ron and Malfoy's robes.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you were doing, Wallamby?" Slughorn exclaimed. "You're not even supposed to be in here!"

"Ginny…s'my date…" he answered slowly, his finger gingerly touching the quickly swelling lip.

"That's disgusting," Professor Snape retorted, and they flung both Malfoy and Ron outside the room, striding behind them. Slughorn turned around and announced desperately, "The party isn't over yet! Keep enjoying the evening!"

It took a few minutes for the chatter to rise up again, and most of the partygoers were talking animatedly about the scene that was just displayed. Ginny and Luna stuffed their wands away and peered carefully at Hermione, who had not moved yet.

"Hermione?" Ginny said tentatively. "Hermione, ignore every single thing that idiot just said. Don't think about it; here, have a bite to eat—"

"I need to step out for some fresh air," Hermione managed to finally say, with a surprising amount of calm. "I'll be back."

She strode out of the room and walked out of the dungeons, and up the grand staircase.

**xxx**

Malfoy stood as he heard the two Slytherin professors drone on and one about how breaking the school rules and starting riots amongst the students would not end in a successful career.

"I'm sorry to do this, as you're in my own house," Professor Slughorn said sadly, "But I'll have to take twenty points from Slytherin for your misconduct, Mr. Malfoy."

"Same goes for you, Mr. Weasley," Snape snidely remarked. "Only, you seemed to be the instigator to this unfortunate event, and to ensure you never show up like a blind maniac to any other event at this school, I'll take my precautions. Thirty points from Gryffindor."

Ron's jaw dropped and his eyes lowered to the ground, fuming silently.

"In addition," Snape continued, "you will both join me in detention this week. Mindless fighting is not a policy I believe Hogwarts upholds. Now, back to your dormitories."

Glaring at Draco one last time, Ron sulked away to the grand staircase and Draco watched him leave with a look of revulsion. Seeing as he was already at in the dungeons, he wasn't very far from the Slytherin dormitory. Snape turned on his heel, evidently bored with the situation already, and stalked out of sight.

"Well, off you go," Slughorn said, and turned back to the room where the party was still going.

"Wait, professor," he said quickly, and Slughorn turned around. "I'm truly, ah, sorry about what happened inside."

Slughorn waved his hand nonchalantly, "Oh, no matter, you're strapping young men; I remember what it was like to be sixteen." He chuckled at the memory and shook his head. "It's done with, and punishment has been placed where it's due."

"Yes, but," Draco interrupted again before Slughorn could turn away again. "See, I find it just a little unfair, only in the accordance that I should not be allowed back to the party seeing…seeing as I only reacted to a hideous remark placed on one of your most superb students."

Slughorn did not seem convinced. "Well, be that as it may, I don't think your return would do any good—"

"I'd at least like to say goodnight to my date," he said quickly. "Hermione Granger?"

"Oh yes, yes, Miss Granger!" Slughorn said with recognition. "Bright student, very bright…is she whom…?"

"Yes," Malfoy answered. "She received the slander. Many others inside would agree." Slughorn frowned. "Just a quick goodnight parting," Malfoy persisted. "Then off to the dormitory for me."

Slughorn thought for a moment before slumping. "Alright, just say your goodbyes and then off to bed."

Smiling, Draco stepped inside behind Slughorn, and quickly scanned the room for his date. He merely wanted to gloat in front of her then leave, but Hermione was nowhere in sight.

A hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Harry was standing behind him.

"Where's Ron?" he demanded.

"Shipped off to Egypt, I'm afraid," he answered somberly. "Off to learn peaceful methods from the camels."

"Come off it," Harry snapped. "What are you playing at? Why did you agree to be Hermione's date? You think she's filth."

"Keep to your own nose, Potter; she asked _me_ to the party, not the other way around," Draco retorted. Harry's eyes widened slightly but his grip tightened. Draco rolled his eyes. "Drop the antics, I'm not interested in you tonight."

He turned to leave but Harry's hand was still clenching his arm. Draco raised an eyebrow and decided to turn the game around. "Is this jealousy I detect?" He moved closer to Harry until they were nose to nose, their bangs touching, black mixing with silvery blond. He lowered his voice. "Want me all for yourself? Sorry to disappoint, but I don't swing that way…yet. You may convince me with a few more words."

He released Draco's arm with revulsion. "You're mental," Harry growled, and disappeared in the crowd.

Draco smiled slightly before searching from Hermione again. He felt very tired suddenly, and wondered if all this trouble to make her pay for his previous years' troubles was worth it. He had surprised himself when he punched the hot-headed Weasley, all simply because he had called Hermione Granger a whore. He admitted, even for him it was a foul name reserved only for the vilest person, and Hermione definitely didn't deserve such a title.

However, his reaction disturbed him deeply. Something inside of him had gone cold, and the expression on Hermione's face had not helped. Something in her gaze fractured, as if the world around her had been shattered into tiny shards and pieces. He watched Harry, Luna Lovegood, and Ginny Weasley react immediately by flinging out their wands, but that kind of confrontation did not satisfy him. He wanted to physically inflict pain upon the idiot.

But why? He certainly didn't have enough feelings for the muggle-born to become her protective…protector. The savior of her innocence. The knight in enchanted armor.

The prospect made him chuckle, and yet here he was, searching for her.

Draco's eyes caught sight of Luna Lovegood, who was gazing around with a noncommittal expression, having neither interest nor disinterest in the party. He decided she would probably know where Hermione was, especially after she sent the curse that was probably swelling Weasley's lip to the size of a balloon.

He cleared his throat and approached her. "Do you know where Hermione is?"

Her eyes landed on him softly. "Oh hello," she greeted pleasantly. "Hermione left shortly after you and Ron were taken outside."

"Do you know where she left to?" Draco pressed, slightly irritated that she was distracted by something in the air.

"No," was her dreamy reply. Annoyed, and not up to insulting someone who wouldn't care either way, he turned around and decided it was time to forget about the ordeal and head back to his dormitory. "By the way," she called, and he paused. "I thought that the way you hit Ron was… very brave. He should not have said those things about Hermione," she continued, "and the black eye makes you look very devil may care."

He shifted uneasily. "Er, thanks," he said, and Luna smiled before turning around and trying to catch something invisible in the air. "Perhaps she's headed to the Gryffindor tower," Luna added, and continued with her hunt.

Malfoy breathed in deeply through his nose and decided his time at Slughorn's Christmas party was over, and he strode out.

Then an idea sparked in his head.

He walked across the entrance hall and bounded up the grand staircase. After going up a few floors, he entered one and walked ahead, catching his breath.

The old bathroom door was just a foot away, the one he happened across last night. He heard a small sound, clearly feminine, and Malfoy did not hesitate to turn the knob.

He was immediately met with a silvery figure—a ghost with pigtails and glasses who looked extremely sour.

"She's been coming in here too often!" the ghost girl wailed angrily. "Get her_ out!_" And with that she zoomed right through Malfoy's body and spiraled in the air, disappearing.

Malfoy stepped forward cautiously, until he caught sight of a soft pink dress and slender legs crossed together, and he came to see Hermione sitting on a ledge with her hair a mane once again. Her face was in her hands, shoulders drooping heavily.

Hermione's head shot up, her eyes locking with his as they narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

**xxx**

Hermione had initially come to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to relieve herself, considering it was the only thing that made her forget about Ron completely. But the moment she stepped inside she felt every bit pathetic that Ron had accused her of. It shouldn't take a climax to forget someone, and yet here Hermione was.

So instead, she took a seat on the ledge and tried to calm down.

The thought of Harry, Ginny, and Luna coming to her defense lifted her spirits. She hadn't expected Harry-Ron's best friend, and Ginny-Ron's own sister, to take her side so readily. And the attacks from Luna Lovegood surprised her, no less the angry expression she momentarily possessed.

But what baffled her the most was Malfoy's reaction.

She hadn't expected him to lift a finger in her defense, no less punch Ron square in the jaw and start a brawl. It worried her deeply. What did he mean by doing that? He made it clear on several occasions that he wished nothing more than to drop her in a vat of troll dung and set it on fire.

Just thinking about him irritated her, but after tonight…she didn't think she could hate him so devotedly. Perhaps there was more to the Slytherin prince than blond hair and snide remarks.

A loud sound caught her attention, and she heard Moaning Myrtle practically scream about Hermione's irritating presence in the girl's lavatory. Hermione stiffened and dropped her head in her hands, not wanting to confront whatever girl decided to slander her further. Even worse, she didn't want the consolatory words of her friends, for she would truly just break down with sympathy. Hermione was puzzled though; nobody ever came to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and she was sure nobody had followed her out of the party…so who was it?

She was met with silence. Why wasn't the intruder saying anything? Finally she snapped her head up to kindly tell the person to go about their business and leave her alone, but the words got stuck in her throat.

The person before her was Draco Malfoy himself.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out. He did not reply, merely stared at her with interest.

"…Well?"

He shrugged, leaning against a stall. "Oh, just thought I'd strike up a chat or something, catch up on life."

She frowned. "Right."

He said nothing, merely decided to stare at her until she began to squirm under his gaze. "Well, if that's it, then. The exit's over there."

"I know where it is."

"Then why are you still here? Don't you have first years to terrorize?" Hermione said irritatedly.

"Why haven't you cried yet?" he asked suddenly, catching Hermione by surprise.

"What?" she spluttered.

"Isn't that what you girls do? Leave dramatically up some stairs, lock yourself in a bathroom and cry as if the world has a personal agenda against you."

"I'm not that naïve," Hermione shot back, annoyed at his attacks. "And even if I had something to discuss of that nature, I am certainly not discussing it with _you_. Don't think you've fooled me, Malfoy; you're still the smarmy worm you were the day you stepped into Hogwarts."

His eyes went cold. "Of course I am," he snarled, taking a few steps toward her. "Little prim and proper Granger, too busy having her nose buried in books and hands down her panties to know anything else."

"_Excuse me?_"

"What, did I stutter?" he mocked. Hermione had gone scarlet and she shifted uncomfortably.

"How dare you say such things about me?" Hermione's voice rose nearly to a shout, but inside she was mortified that he would say something very close to what was real.

He strode towards her until they were a few inches apart, and she leaned away from the close proximity. "You of all people would know, Granger," he said lowly. "Coming here to this bathroom…sort of a _guilty pleasure_, wouldn't you agree?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about."

He smiled, his grey eyes darkening. "Would you like a reminder?" he said lightly, his finger trailing lightly down her face. She flinched away.

"You're vile."

"So I've heard," he answered, his finger lightly trailing down her side.

"You know nothing about me," Hermione countered, grabbing his hand as it began to trail down her thigh. "And you're stepping out of line. Get away from me before I hex you."

"So that I can leave you to pleasure yourself?" They were close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin. "Was last night not enough? That's why you came here, isn't it," he said, using his other hand continue what his left couldn't finish. It slid lightly down her thigh, and when he flickered his eyes to look at her, her face was a mix of shock and confusion. "It's becoming a nasty habit of yours, coming down here whenever that red-headed buffoon sets you off. It can't be healthy, doing it by yourself."

Malfoy suddenly felt the tip of Hermione's wand against his throat. "How do you know that?"

"Ah, so she admits it!" Malfoy smiled. "The cleverest witch in the school and you can't figure that one out?"

Her eyes were pensive for a moment before it dawned on her.

"You're a prefect," she whispered in a small, horrified voice.

"Shockingly," Malfoy grinned, leaning towards her to make her even more uncomfortable. "Imagine my surprise while I was doing rounds and a small noise came from this very bathroom. And the further I investigated, the more I heard, and the more I saw. And from the looks of it, Granger, you were enjoying yourself quite a lot."

Her face hardened. "So you saw me. And what? You did nothing, just like when I caught you. What, too afraid to report it?"

"See, Granger, that's what sets us apart," he smirked as she glowered at him. "You didn't report me because, well, I must have sent you in a tizzy and you were too flabbergasted to think of anything else. I on the other hand," his hand lowered down her leg and brushed against her inner thigh, and she reflexively closed her knees together, "like having leverage. And this was quite a delicious one to have."

"Don't do this," she warned.

He cocked his head. "No?"

"You think I'm disgusting," she prompted, pushing the tip of her wand deeper against him, but he was unfazed. "You think my blood is dirty, so everything I touch is dirty. Don't try to lie, Malfoy; everyone knows you think I'm rubbish."

"Yes, this black eye I've got here is a token of how much rubbish I find in you," Malfoy retorted irritatedly. Hermione's gaze shifted to his left eye, where a purplish-blue hue was starting around it. There really was no denying that.

"So your feelings for me have changed."

"Not changed, sort of…shifted."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't really care." Malfoy's eyes narrowed, and his eyes ran the length of her body. "Have you ever been with someone?"

Her eyes widened. "That's really none of your business!"

"Because if you had, you wouldn't be holed up in some dingy bathroom, touching your—"

"That's enough!" Hermione shrilled.

"Would you like to know what it really feels like?" he inquired. "I mean you have a point, you are a mudblood and I might gag while doing it, but the outcome could be interesting—"

"I can't stand you!"

"And neither do I," Malfoy shot back. "Yet here we are."

They were both breathing fast, staring at each other with every ounce of hatred they possessed.

What happened next was quick and a complete haze. Once second they were glaring at each other and the next Hermione lowered her wand and crashed her lips to Malfoy's. He pushed her further against the wall and grabbed her leg, pulling her hips closer to his. His mouth slanted over hers hungrily, and Hermione obliged. Her fingers threaded in his soft hair and tugged hard, and his hands roamed her torso. She felt herself growing hotter, her senses on a high.

He couldn't get enough of her soft skin, the way she responded so deliciously to him. He forgot that this was the girl whom he wanted to see suffer, but someone he wanted to explore thoroughly. His mouth left a burning sensation down her throat as his bit lightly on her neck and she made a small sound, his hand trailing between their bodies and to her inner thigh.

She hissed when his hand lightly touched her hot core through the thin fabric of her panties, and he sucked hard on the flesh of her neck. He rubbed a finger directly over her sex, teasing a moan out of her as she gripped tightly on his shoulders. Tugging his hair hard, she brought his mouth back to hers, enjoying how smooth and soft they were against hers. She had imagined him to be coarse and unforgiving, but he turned out to be the exact opposite. Every movement he made stimulated her further, every kiss driving her insane. His hand brushed against her breast and she sighed, pushing herself against him.

"_Get out of my bloody bathroom!_" a female voice shrieked. Malfoy and Hermione drew apart to see Moaning Myrtle hovering a few feet above him. "This is _not_ a brothel!"

Hermione seemed to catch herself. She froze, and Malfoy took a step away from her. She glanced at him, horrified, and looked down at her dress, which was in complete disarray.

"Merlin," she whispered. Malfoy couldn't rip his eyes away from her tousled form, and definitely not from her thoroughly kissed lips. She seemed to be thinking along the same lines, but she breathed in deeply and shook her head. "You don't mention this… to anyone." Without another word, she brushed past him and ran out of the bathroom.

He sighed deeply and turned around to lean against the ledge Hermione had been on. He stared up at Myrtle's hovering form and said, "Well, shit."

* * *

><p><strong>First off, I truly apologize for the long wait for the next chapter. I will admit I had a bit on my plate, mostly because I graduated! But I wrote a bit more to make up for it, though. I hope to update more regularly.<strong>

**Second, you guys are **_**so lovely**_**. The amount of alerts and notifications I received were just unreal. I love each and every one of you, truly, and I hope my chapters will not disappoint!**

**Just a question, as I haven't used ffnet for years, how does one acquire a beta? I usually like editing myself but I don't have the time anymore and I'd love to have one. (With that said, please ignore minor mistakes. Most likely they'll be gone as I obsessively read over the chapter after it's been posted.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A week had passed since the incident in the bathroom. After leaving Draco with Moaning Myrtle's company, Hermione had rushed up the girls' dormitory and scrubbed the evening away in the shower, shivering at the memory of Malfoy's lips against hers, then curled into bed with a fervent mantra to wake up in the morning and realize the entire affair had been a dream.

But it had not been a dream, something Hermione bitterly accepted the next morning. She went about the next few days steeling herself, ignoring Ron's very existence, and vaguely interacting with a now awkward Harry. He was unfortunately stuck between two friendships, and had long rejected any idea of reconciliation.

A few days later, however, he had approached her during breakfast in the Great Hall.

"Er, good morning, Hermione," he said meekly as he sat down beside her. She grabbed a knife from the across the table and saw Harry stiffen for a moment, but relaxed when he saw she was merely buttering her toast.

"Good morning," was her terse reply. Harry fidgeted a bit, rumpling his hair in indecision, when he finally said, "I'm ah, really sorry about last night."

The knife's movements froze. Hermione didn't reply, and Harry took a breath.

"I don't know how things got out of hand, and I know I was siding with Ron in the beginning but—well, you saw what happened after."

The corners of Hermione's mouth quirked slightly at the memory of Harry casting jinx after jinx at the infuriating ginger. "Yes, I remember." She looked up and peered at Harry's green eyes. He was genuinely stricken, and she saw nothing but honesty in his eyes.

"It's alright, now, you don't have to be scared around me," Hermione teased, and saw Harry's shoulders relax. He grinned and began helping himself with some breakfast as well. And though they didn't mention the party ever again, they knew it was no longer something they had to worry about where they were concerned.

As the Great Hall was beginning to fill with its sleepy students trudging down and slumping in their seats, the Gryffindor table too became packed. Ginny had taken a post by Hermione, and Luna had decided that the Gryffindor side was far more interesting than the Ravenclaw's.

Hermione noticed from the slight corner of her eye that Ron was avoiding all of them. He sat at the far end of the table with Lavender, who seemed put-out with Ron's sour mood. He kept stealing glances at Harry and Hermione, and Hermione turned her head to Harry and began chatting animatedly, effectively ignoring the smarmy git.

And that was how the rest of the week remained. Ron didn't show up until late at night in the common room, as he and Malfoy were serving detention for this entire week before Christmas holidays began. It was today, on Friday, that she began to worry if she would be returning home without visiting the Burrow.

But she truly couldn't stand putting herself through that. Sadly, she realized would not be seeing Harry either, as he would be going to the Burrow with Ron and Ginny as well.

Hermione took her time placing her clothes into her trunk before grabbing her wand steadily and descending down into the Gryffindor common room. She was on rounds tonight for the last time until she came back from the holidays. She hoped, _hoped_, she would not bump into people she did not want to see.

_Please don't let anything ruin my last night at Hogwarts,_ she pleaded silently to whatever would listen. Taking a shaky breath, she exited the portrait hole.

Hermione made rounds carefully, scolding a few boys to go back to their dormitories and end their game of Exploding Snap. She was nearly finished and began making her way up the grand staircase when she bumped into another prefect.

"Oh, I'm sorr—" the apology died on her lips as she saw who it was.

_Of course_, Hermione thought bitterly._ How naïve of me to think I'd have a perfectly nice evening._

"Watch where you bloody well are going!" she snapped, but Malfoy did not bother to look at her. In fact, he didn't even seem to realize he'd bumped into her. Hermione's eyebrows rose as she watched him give only a dark glare before turning away. Her eyes slid to a letter that was tucked in his grip as he resumed his pace down the steps, effectively ignoring her.

Well that was… unexpected.

She almost said something again just to annoy him, but Malfoy disappeared too quickly for her to get the chance. She frowned as he turned to the Entrance Hall and headed to the dungeons.

_What was that?_

Malfoy had left for quite some time before Hermione carefully walked down the grand staircase to follow him. She couldn't believe what she was doing; didn't she _want_ Malfoy to ignore her existence? Especially after all that had happened between them already?

Her quick movements to the dungeons entrance faltered. She was being silly. She would get caught. She would have to speak with Malfoy about why she was hot on his heels, which would not be a pleasant conversation. It was nearly curfew. This adventure was futile.

Her legs resumed its quick pace for the dungeons nonetheless.

Curiosity got the best of her. Malfoy had done his own little sneaking, hadn't he? Caught her at a vulnerable moment in the girls' bathroom, hadn't he? She had every right to meddle in his life, just a tad bit. No one would know. It was just a little harmless pursuit.

Plus, Hermione consoled to herself, Harry and Ron would've done the same. They even drank Polyjuice Potion back in their second year just to spy on Malfoy! If anything, Harry would be pleasantly surprised—and dare she say, proud?—that Hermione explored for answers on her own.

These thoughts led her to a sudden halt as she heard noises coming from one of the classrooms. Treading lightly on her feet, Hermione caught glimpse of a head of blonde hair.

"You need to calm down," a subdued voice said softly, whom she distinctly recognized to be Snape's. Her eyebrows furrowed. Why was Malfoy having a private audience with Snape?

"How do you expect me to calm down when _he has my bloody mother?_" Malfoy's harsh voice hissed.

"She was warned about this, Draco, as were you," Snape replied, slightly annoyed. "And you would do well to keep this to yourself until you reach Malfoy Manor tomorrow evening. I encourage you to go to bed now, Mr. Malfoy."

"Not until I have some answers," Malfoy growled dangerously. Hermione stiffened at the coldness in his voice.

Snape responded silkily, "Then I suggest you get accustomed to disappointment. _Good night_, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy exhaled harshly before whispering something that Hermione couldn't quite catch. She staggered behind a wall when the door suddenly flew open and Malfoy stalked out of the classroom, rage etched on his face. Her eyes fell back on his hand, which still clutched a letter.

Malfoy's strides halted for a moment. He breathed deeply and his fingers twitched, and Hermione flattened herself against the wall further. Had he noticed her presence?

He inhaled deeply, then resumed his pace in the dungeons, disappearing as he turned a corner.

Hermione sagged against the wall in relief. Though the trip to the dungeons left her implacably puzzled. What had happened to Malfoy's mother that left him so worried?

Shaking her head, Hermione travelled back to the Entrance Hall and up the grand staircase, pondering over what she'd just overheard.

**xxx**

The Hogwarts Express train bulleted out of sight and emerged into London quickly, faster than she'd ever remembered. She decided to sit with Ginny, Luna, and Neville, as it would have been far too uncomfortable to attempt sitting with Harry, who, despite his undying friendship with Hermione, couldn't help but still sit with Ron. She understood it and accepted it; they were best mates, after all, and were friends before Hermione became Harry's friend in their first year.

Still, it stung just a bit when he gave her an apologetic smile and sat it the compartment with Ron.

"I'm off to the restroom," Hermione said as she swiftly stood from her seat and slid the compartment door open. She made her way down the train aisles until she reached the locked door of the bathroom. Tapping her foot impatiently, she couldn't help but overhear a conversation inside the locked door.

Her curiosity piqued, Hermione leaned in to listen. There were not supposed to be two people in the toilet at once. She gripped her wand as she readied herself to split up the amorous couple that was inside together.

"…don't care," she heard a gruff voice whisper harshly. "You can't come over this holiday, or any holiday ever again."

"But _why_?" an insistent voice said, distinctly female. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you like this? You were fine yesterday, and all of sudden it's like you flipped a switch into a different person. Ever since you got that _bloody _letter—"

"Stop deluding yourself into thinking you know me, you silly girl," the voice sneered, sending a shiver down Hermione's spine. Hermione sidled against a jutting wall and hid from view as the bathroom door slid open. Hermione was surprised to see Pansy Parkinson walk out with obviously red eyes as if she'd been crying, and a few moments later a platinum blonde head emerged from the bathroom.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and forgetting her need to use the toilet, silently walked back to her compartment and sat in deep thought. _I should probably tell Harry_, Hermione thought vaguely. Perhaps this had something to do with Voldemort? The Malfoys _were_ well-know Death Eaters, after all, and it was only a matter of time before Draco Malfoy succumbed to the dark side.

And after the encounter with Voldemort at the Ministry of Magic last June, and especially after the death of Sirius Black…Hermione vaguely remembered Lucius Malfoy's arrest and involvement…

_I will tell him._

Hermione stood silently and slid the compartment door open. She sauntered down the train until she went to the compartment Harry and Ron were in. With a twinge she remembered how she had always been there with them in this very compartment that had long been exclusively theirs. Somehow everyone seemed to know that this compartment was usually taken by them three, and they steered clear from it.

Her eyes wandered to her fingers sadly as they grasped the handle of the compartment door. With a shaky breath, she slid it open.

Ron and Harry were gazing out the window when she stepped inside. Harry noticed her presence and straightened, smiling. Ron noticed Harry's movement and wandered his eyes to Hermione, stiffening slightly.

He seemed at a loss of words, as was Harry, and Hermione cleared her throat, suddenly unsure of herself.

"Er, Harry, I've got to speak with you." She fidgeted as Harry nodded, "Okay. Ah, what is it?"

Hermione tilted her head to the door, indicating she needed to speak with him privately. Ron, who had been strangely silent, noticed this and glared. "Anything you have to say to him you can say in front of me."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and said coldly, "I could, couldn't I? But I won't. Harry?" She was looking at him expectantly and he began to rise when Ron's hand shot out to grab Harry's wrist.

"Harry's staying," Ron said vehemently but Harry scowled.

"Ron, stop being such a damn twat," Harry snapped irritatedly and shrugged off Ron's grip. "You may have a problem with her but _I_ don't."

"So you're taking _her_ side now?" Ron hissed.

"There are no sides!"

Hermione was slowly losing her patience. Finally she interrupted, "Forget it. I see my coming here was a mistake."

"Damn right, it was," Ron snapped, and Hermione flinched. Ron froze for a moment as he saw the pain flicker in her eyes, and he suddenly looked contrite but said nothing. She felt her face suddenly warm and turned on her heel, throwing the compartment door open and stalking back to her own compartment.

_Well_ that _was a waste of time_, Hermione thought angrily. She'd just have to tell Harry after the holidays. Perhaps it wasn't that important after all.

They arrived at King's Cross a half hour later, and the students filed animatedly out of the Hogwarts Express train. Hermione hauled her luggage with a grimace and pushed her way out of the train.

The sky was grey and bleak, and the ground was damp as if it had just stopped raining. Hermione searched for the familiar faces of her parents, but to her dismay she couldn't spot them. It was after a few minutes of strolling about worriedly that she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Hermione spun around, her hand automatically gripping the wand in her pocket, but was surprised to see a familiar face.

"Mrs. Hart?" Hermione said in disbelief. The elderly lady gazed at her kindly, and Hermione knew her to be her neighbor. She'd often bring raison cookies to her house over the summertime. At the moment, however, she did not see the cheerful lady but a somber one.

"Hello, Hermione dear," she smiled.

"Erm, where are Mum and Dad?" Hermione asked tentatively, afraid of what answer she would be receiving at this point. Mrs. Hart looked down at her sadly.

Her parents were on their way to the station, Mrs. Hart began to explain, when a bus collided into their car at an intersection. They were currently in the hospital, and Mrs. Hart had come down to the station to fetch her.

Hermione listened calmly and requested to be taken to the hospital immediately. Mrs. Hart complied, and drove her in silence.

When they arrived Hermione quickly went to the room they were being held in. She sucked in a breath when her eyes fell on them, lying still on the hospital beds. Her mother's face was heavily bruised, and her father had a cast on his leg.

"Miss Granger," the attending doctor told her as she stepped outside the room. "The damages are quite extensive, and your father suffered from severe brain trauma upon the impact of the accident, but they've both been stabilized. We need to run a cerebral angiography on your father, however, to check for a brain aneurysm."

Hermione nodded numbly as the doctor continued to speak to her but she was barely listening. They shouldn't be here. They shouldn't be in a muggle hospital. She should treat them herself, and her fingers twitched to the wand in her pocket.

But no, she couldn't. She was no longer at Hogwarts. If she were to perform any underage magic, she'd surely be expelled.

Hermione nearly screamed at her helplessness. She was a witch, for Merlin's sake! What was the point of having all this magic inside of her if she couldn't use it to help heal her own parents?

Perhaps, then, she should find someone who wasn't underage.

Hermione left the hospital and Mrs. Hart drove her home. Hermione quietly thanked her and brought all of her luggage up to her room. She looked around vacantly, feeling strange to be home without her parents. Even stranger, being home at all during Christmas. She should've been at the Burrow, just like every other year.

For once she was grateful for the quarrel with Ron, or else she wouldn't have found out about her parents at all. Her family had no wizard friends, as she lived in muggle London and had believed to be a muggle up until her 11th year. They would have remained in the hospital, utterly alone.

Hermione strode to her desk and opened a drawer taking out a pen and paper. She contemplated using a parchment and quill, but it would have taken far too long to dig it out of her school trunk. So she scribbled furiously, and then folded the paper and slipped it inside a small envelope. She went over to the tawny barn owl that she owned. Slipping open the cage, Hermione stroked its feathers and tied the letter to her leg.

"Be quick," she whispered and the owl hooted softly in confirmation before setting flight outside her window. She sank on her bed and dropped her head in her hands, trembling.

**xxx**

"The Dark Lord's orders are final," Draco heard the maniacal woman whisper softly. He sat on the sofa in his living room at Malfoy Manor, his twisted aunt hovering a few inches away from his ear. Draco felt nothing but revulsion as she stroked his hair cajolingly.

"What of my mother?" he gritted out.

Bellatrix turned Draco's chin to face her, her eyes suddenly gone cold. "Step inside the dining room, and He shall tell you Himself," Bellatrix said firmly. "Really, Draco, I expected more from my nephew. You should be _honored_," he felt the hand that was stroking his hair tightened its grip so that she yanked his head back, "that the Dark Lord has entrusted you with a mission."

"As I am," he replied coldly, eyes never leaving hers. She inspected him carefully, trying to find something. A falter. But he didn't let it happen. His eyes were dead as he stared into her bottomless eyes.

"That's my baby boy," Bellatrix smiled, satisfied, and ruffled his hair before taking a step back and nodding over to the door that led to the dining room. "He is waiting. As are the rest of them."

He stood slowly and began to walk over to the dining room, Bellatrix only a step behind him. He felt his stomach twist in a knot and his heart turn cold. Masking his face into one of indifference, he turned the knob and stepped inside.

Each chair was occupied in long stretch of a dining table. Draco recognized almost every face, and as his eyes travelled to the occupant sitting at the very front of the table, he felt his heart stop.

_Move, speak!_ Draco's mind shouted as he stared at a pair of gleaming red eyes. Quickly Draco dropped his gaze and bowed. "My lord," he whispered solemnly, his throat constricting.

"Ah, my boy," Voldemort's high, cruel voice said softly. "Take a seat. We've been waiting."

Draco felt his feet moving on their own accord as Draco sat silently. From the corner of his eye he watched Bellatrix do the same, taking a seat by Voldemort's left-hand side.

"We have waited long enough for this," Voldemort began, his red eyes scanning his followers. None dared to meet his eyes. "And it is with regret that I hadn't started this earlier…no matter, all has fallen in place nonetheless."

Not a word was spoken. Voldemort continued, "We cannot hope to move on, however, without eliminating those who stand in our way."

"If I may, my lord," a deep voice interrupted. Everyone looked up to stare at the one who dared to speak. It was a man with light hair tied back, whom Draco recognized as Yaxley. "We have already infiltrated the Ministry. If you wish, we can overhaul—"

"There will be no need," Voldemort said coldly, and Yaxley silenced immediately. "We _cannot_ hope to continue any further without a few deaths. I am quite sure you know whom I am referring to."

"Albus Dumbledore."

A painful knot twisted in Draco's stomach again, his heart spiraling in darkness. He had always known, but…

"I will do it, my lord," Bellatrix said fervently. She was the only one who dared look at him directly, even leaned over as far as she could to be near him. Voldemort eyed her with subtle amusement. "I will take him down. It will be no hard task at all."

Voldemort chuckled, causing a shiver to go down Draco's spine. "As much as I enjoy your enthusiasm, it will not be you who must kill him." His eyes slid over to Draco, and his eyes were sparkling in delight. "It will be him."

He felt the eyes penetrate him and Draco wanted to die. His finger thumbed the wand in his pocket. He knew the curse. It would be so easy, to end it. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to do this. He was ready.

He thought of his mother.

Draco forced his eyes up to gaze at Voldemort. He tried very hard to keep emotion from flitting through on his face. "Draco Malfoy," Voldemort's cruel voice said coldly, "you will kill Albus Dumbledore."

It was almost laughable, that he was entrusting this with him. But inside, Draco knew the real reason behind it. It was to punish him for the mistakes his father had made a few months prior. Lucius Malfoy had been captured at the Ministry of Magic last June, and this was his repayment. Voldemort knew quite well that Draco would not be able to kill Dumbledore; he _expected_ it.

He merely wanted the satisfaction of torturing Draco as slowly as possible. As was expected from a family whose name was spiraling down in shame quicker than the Blacks.

But he knew the only way to keep his mother alive and safe was to let himself be pulled by the strings.

He looked at Voldemort in the eye, unwavering, and replied, "Yes, my lord."

**xxx**

"I got your owl and came as quickly as I could," Tonks said as they walked briskly down the corridors of the hospital. "What is it that you'd like me to do?"

"Just check their health status," Hermione said quickly. "I need to know each and every thing that is ailing them. And if I could treat them myself."

She ushered Tonks into the room her parents were staying in. She could see the frown on Tonks' lips and she muttered, "I'm sorry about what happened."

Hermione shook her head. "It couldn't be helped."

Tonks nodded. "What would you like me to do first?"

"Check if this was any magic involved in their injury," Hermione responded at once. Tonks nodded and raised her wand, muttering an incantation. After a few brief moments, she lowered it and shook her head. "No, this truly was an accident. No magic involved."

Hermione let out a breath, and nodded slowly. "Okay. Do the exam."

Tonks raised her wand again and Hermione waited anxiously. This was more back-up information than anything else. She'd read the charts made on her parents, and already knew what ailed them. She just needed to verify if there were any other things the muggle doctors had missed.

"Your mother has a fractured wrist, and a few bumps and bruises, but otherwise I don't see much else," Tonks muttered. "Your father…" she waved her wand again. "Broken leg. Swelling in the brain." Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. "He's pretty beat up. He's running a fever, too."

"Can't we take them to St. Mungo's?" Hermione said desperately.

Tonks looked at her sadly. "I don't think we can, Hermione. Muggles aren't allowed there. It would breach a million rules, and your parents don't exactly have magically inflicted injuries."

For the first time Hermione grew agitated by Tonks. "Well, seeing as I can't do magic right now, is there anything _you_ can heal?"

Tonks grew nervous under her gaze. "I-I've never been very good at healing…"

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, steadying herself. She opened them again and replied, "That's alright. Thanks anyway, Tonks. I appreciate all that you've done for me."

Tonks looked at her despairingly and said, "I'm really sorry, Hermione. I wish I could do more for you."

Hermione nodded silently and gazed back at her parents. "I have no idea when they're going to wake up," she whispered more to herself than to Tonks. Tonks patted her shoulder gently.

"Would you like me to tell Harry and everyone else?" Tonks said softly.

Hermione glanced up at her sharply. "No, don't bother," she said. "There's no point worrying them over nothing. Actually, it'd be great if you didn't mention this at all."

Tonks' eyes raked over her face worriedly, but nodded anyway.

"It was good to see you, Hermione."

"You too."

Tonks slowly walked out the door and left the building. Hermione sat down on a chair beside her mother's bed and gingerly took her hand gently.

An idea sparked inside her.

"I may not be able to do magic," Hermione whispered slowly, "but I can still use a cauldron."

Leaning over to kiss her mother and father on the cheek, Hermione left the hospital and bounded outside to catch Tonks before she left.

"Wait!" Hermione called, catching Tonks as she prepared to apparate. Tonks wheeled around and stared at her in confusion. Hermione stopped in front of her and said breathlessly, "Will you help me brew some potions?"

Tonks raised her eyebrows. "Hermione, I—"

"You don't have to worry; I will be doing all the brewing. I'll need you once in a while to use your wand and cast a small spell here and there. I promise I won't take up too much of your time. _Please,_" Hermione persisted. "I can't do this without you. My parents…they're all I've got here."

Tonks sighed and nodded firmly. "Of course, Hermione. You only need to call when you need me."

She smiled and disapparated,

Hastily Hermione ran to her house and threw open her bedroom door and sank to her knees by her Hogwarts trunk, searching and searching before she came upon a heavy bag filled with different-sized coins. Not bothering to change out of her Muggle clothes, Hermione stepped outside with grim determination buzzing through her veins.

Walking through London during the evening was no trouble for Hermione as she took sharp corners and backstreets. After all, she had grown up on these streets. Still, she kept her wand close to her as she travelled in the less-reputable areas. She sighed in relief when she saw the familiar sign with a cauldron and a witch brewing it, and pushed open the door to the building.

The Leaky Cauldron was quite filled, and Hermione wasted no time to brush past the others and go out the back of the room. The chill air hit her again as she neared the opposite wall with trash cans in front. She tapped the bricks accordingly, and waited for them to part for her.

Diagon Alley opened before her as magnificently as it had the first time she'd ever set foot in it. She scanned the area and noticed that not many people were scouring the streets of Diagon Alley today. Shaking her head, she began to walk.

Slug and Jiggers Apothecary was, unsurprisingly, very close to the entrance to Knockturn Alley. The area itself was morbid and dark, and unfriendly gargoyles were stationed on either side of the store. Still, Hermione needed the ingredients to the various potions she was about to make, so she ignored the ominous aura and pushed open the wooden door. As she stepped inside and eyed the many bottles carefully, she began taking the items she needed. She was slightly miffed at the prices, but the bag of gold in her purse would surely cover the costs.

She reached the counter where a bored looking man with dark hair was enchanting a deck of cards to tap-dance. When she placed the items onto the counter, he raised his eyes and drawled, "Would that be all, miss?"

"Yes," she replied tersely.

"Twenty-four galleons."

Her eyes widened. "_Twenty-four galleons?_ That's ridiculous! I bought nearly all these ingredients just this past August for ten galleons less!"

"Twenty. Four. Galleons," the shop boy enunciated slowly as if she were deaf. Hermione set her jaw and furiously dug inside her purse, haphazardly throwing the gold onto the counter. With a lazy flick of his wrist the gold disappeared and the bottles she purchased wrapped themselves neatly, then zoomed inside a bag.

"Have a nice night, miss," the boy smirked, noticing her peeved expression, and resumed his idle amusement with the tap-dancing cards. Hermione said nothing and grabbed the bag, quickly exiting the apothecary, fuming.

"Twenty-four galleons," Hermione muttered indignantly as she strode back to the Leaky Cauldron.

She let out a breath of relief when she peeked inside her bag of ingredients. It wouldn't take long at all to make the drafts and potions she had in mind. As long as Tonks showed up when she called, everything would be smooth-sailing from here on out.

Her mind wandered back to Harry and Ron. She wished that they could all set aside their differences and just let everything go back to normal. But Ron was too much of a bigot to let things slide, and Hermione refused to put up with his childishness. And as much as she wished to confide in Harry, anything she told him would instantaneously be known to Ron as well.

Plus, Harry had enough on his plate this year. After Sirius's death, Harry hadn't been the same. On top of that, he was meeting with Dumbledore almost weekly now, discussing things that Harry was too overwhelmed to confide about. All in due time, though.

Still…Hermione couldn't help but feel a little alone now. There was nobody at home anymore. She was cut off from her best friends. Her parents were on the brink of death.

Tom the bartender noticed her pause in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron and called, "Would you like a drink, miss?"

Hermione almost automatically said 'no' but caught herself. She thought about the event of her going home to an empty house, and the absence of Harry and Ron.

"Yes," she said softly, ordering a chilled glass of butterbeer and sat on a chair, sipping quietly.

**xxx**

Draco noticed the moment she came back from Diagon Alley. She had a bag clutched in her left hand and a beaded purse in the other, and suddenly she stopped in the middle of the bar as if in deep thought. It was almost funny the way he could see every emotion that flickered on her pale face. Suddenly Tom decided to offer her a drink, and after a moment's hesitation, she accepted.

He'd been sitting in the Leaky Cauldron for what seemed like eternity now. Not that he had anywhere else to be. His father was in Azkaban and his mother was missing. The only company he had at Malfoy Manor were the house-elves and his deranged aunt Bellatrix. Not really his choice of company.

He decided to spend as much time away from home as possible, and the rage pulsating inside his blood urged him to get hammered immediately after the meeting with Voldemort. The purity of his bloodline had saved him from the horrors the muggleborns received from Voldemort and his followers, but now he was in an entirely new predicament.

Draco's fingers lightly touched his forearm where he knew the Dark Mark tattoo was, though it was currently hidden underneath the black sleeve of his sweater. Curse his family for being obsessed with Purebloods. Curse his father for getting caught. Curse his mother for trying to protect him. Curse himself, for being very much a tool.

Draco was raised with words of poison and hatred as his nourishment since as far as he could remember. He despised mudbloods, and bullied anyone who got in his way. Even now as he saw the plain look on Hermione, sitting down sipping her butterbeer in silence, he couldn't help the instant feeling of revulsion and hatred towards her. It wasn't just that she outsmarted him in everything, or that she was friends with Potter and Weasley and the rest of their sorry lot. No, he hated her for something she had no control over. And it disgusted him.

He looked away from her, not wanting to feel these feelings of immense loathing any longer. Did he really hate muggleborns? He didn't know. For now though, he would have to.

_Killing Dumbledore…_Draco suppressed a shudder. That old coot was far too wise and knowing to fall for any trick Draco might send his way to lead him to his ultimate demise. Merlin, if _Voldemort _was never able to kill Dumbledore, how on earth was he going to do it?

_I can't. I can't._

_I must._

There had to be another way. There had to be a loophole. He was just sixteen; how was he expected to murder someone?

_You know the spell_, the back of his mind whispered. _It won't be hard at all…_

His eyes snapped back to Hermione, and was surprised to see her hand tangled in her hair and the other on her drink, and as he inspected her face closely he saw—tears? Why was she crying?

_Probably over that pathetic ginger,_ Malfoy thought snidely. Really, he didn't know why she bothered feeling upset over that oaf. He was almost sure that Hermione had found greater pleasure in the thirty seconds they had been intimate together in Myrtle's bathroom than the six years she'd know Ron.

She suddenly drained her cup and placed a few sickles on the table before rising and brushing the back of her hand on her cheeks. He watched her take a steadying breath as she clutched her bags again, and her face transformed into a blank, determined mask. With swift steps she went to the door and exited the Leaky Cauldron.

_Interesting…_Draco thought vaguely, when he felt a small tap on his shoulder. A girl with golden hair and bright blue eyes was smiling down at him. "Can I buy you a drink?" she smiled sweetly, leaning over so he could see every curve of her body. He already felt his head feeling hazy and his body numb from the alcohol he'd consumed already, but he couldn't stop the slow grin that spread on his face as he raised an eyebrow.

"Of course," he drawled, and pulled out a seat for her. Her pretty blue eyes shined before taking a seat as she began to talk to him, but there was a silent promise in her eyes as her hand brushed his leg.

_Interesting, but not interesting enough_, was his last thought as he forgot about Granger completely and drained his cup of firewhiskey.

**xxx**

Hermione spent the next few days diligently in front of her cauldron, chopping small pieces of ingredients and carefully stirring the viscous liquid inside of it. Once in a while Tonks would show up, just as Hermione had owled her to, and muttered a few simple spells on the concoctions before disapparating back to Grimmauld Place, or wherever it was she was visiting. They rarely spoke much, as Hermione was far too deep in concentration with her _Advanced Potions_ book open in her lap. It was unfortunate that Hermione couldn't use magic, because for once she'd really like to be alone, and didn't like her dependence on Tonks with this. Perhaps it was the inner perfectionist in her, but she couldn't afford something going wrong with these potions and drafts. The slightest mistake in Tonks' wand waving and the entire solution would explode.

Though, Hermione had to give credit where it was due. Tonks didn't become an Auror without having the proper prospects for it. She was extremely intelligent, and very decisive in her spells, and it was unfortunate that her only weakness was in healing spells. However, she did splendidly on whenever Hermione had asked her to cast a spell on the potion.

Every night, however, after the day's brewing was complete, Hermione found herself in silence. She cleaned the house for a while, flipped through the channels on her television, and even decided to cook whatever was left in the fridge. As the hours rolled by she had less and less to do, and ended up lying on the couch staring at the ceiling, listening to the clock tick.

It was then that she decided to grab her coat and walk out in the chilly winter air, making her way to the Leaky Cauldron again.

It was nighttime, and the pub was thriving in activity. Hermione ordered a large glass of spiced butterbeer, then removed her coat and sat down on the chair. She stared at her hands that were folded neatly on the table. Sighing, she looked around.

There were mostly adult wizards and witches, most who were too drunk to know where they were. She pitied them, knowing that if they tried to apparate in such a state they would most likely splinch themselves. Shaking her head, she thanked the waiter who placed her glass on the table and took a generous sip.

It was then that she felt a chill down her back, as if someone were staring at her. She glanced up and stopped breathing, shock registered on her face.

Why on earth was _Draco Malfoy _here?

He didn't gaze at her long as he began to drink deeply from his cup. In fact, he almost seemed bored, though she couldn't understand why. There were two girls sitting at his table, talking animatedly to him. He looked like he couldn't care less what they were saying, and he suppressed a sigh before drinking again, as if to drown out the noise around him.

He never looked at Hermione again, didn't even seem to be aware of the girls sitting with him. He merely stared into his cup and glowered. Hermione finished her drink and ordered a second, sinking in her chair as she inspected him carefully. Hopefully he would continue to ignore her presence and not cause a scene. She knew, even though they had kissed in the girls' bathroom, that he despised her.

The feeling was mutual.

When she drained her third cup she placed a handful of money on the table and shrugged her coat back on. Her wristwatch told her it was way past twelve already, and shock coursed through her. She'd been sitting here since nine.

She grabbed her purse and began to walk to the door. As her fingers rested on the doorknob, she went against her better judgment and cast one last glance at Malfoy. He was watching her, ignoring the occupants at his table completely. He raised his glass to his lips and drank, then refocused his eyes on the girls before him.

Hermione didn't know what to think of that. Biting her lip, she opened the door and walked down the alleys that led her back home.

That was how it remained for the next few days. During the day Hermione would brew her potion, and when she exhausted herself with nothing left to do, she walked calmly over to the Leaky Cauldron and drank her butterbeer. Every time she sat down her eyes found Malfoy's, who was sitting as far away as possible, as usual. They made no form of contact after that, ignored each other completely, and went about their drinking business. Hermione never bothered to drink the alcoholic beverages, for she never liked the taste of them, so she stuck with sweeter and less inhibiting drinks.

From the looks of it, Malfoy was drinking himself into oblivion on a daily basis. At first she wondered what had caused him to seem so miserable and detached every day, but decided to stop wondering and leave it to rest. The less she knew about Malfoy, the better.

She noticed that his hair was not slicked back neatly as it used to be, but was disheveled and fell into his eyes a lot. He looked paler than normal and dark circles appeared under his eyes, an indicator to many sleepless nights.

On Christmas Eve the potions were complete. Hermione was budding with suppressed excitement as she capped the small vials and placed them carefully in her bag. She walked briskly to the hospital and went immediately to the room her parents were being held in. The familiar feeling of sadness washed over her as she gazed at them, helpless and still on their beds.

Within moments Tonks arrived at the door, and Hermione smiled gratefully.

"Good morning," Hermione said softly, and Tonks smiled. "Good morning, doll," Tonks replied, and she glanced around the room.

"Could you disable the cameras in the left corner of the room?" Hermione asked quietly. Tonks raised her brows.

"Cam-whats?"

"The rectangular boxes on the ceiling. I want you to freeze charm them." Tonks nodded and flicked her wand, and the red dot on the cameras disappeared, indicating that they'd been disabled. Hermione moved to stand beside her mother and withdrew the first potion.

Tilting her head delicately, Hermione poured the potion down her mother's mouth, and she swallowed the drink automatically. With satisfaction she noted that the bruises on her face were getting significantly lighter. Moving to her father, she did the same and received the same results. Tonks let out a breath of relief.

"Well, that went well," Tonks grinned, and Hermione's lips quirked slightly.

"We've only won half the battle right. The others are a bit tricky."

Hermione carefully poured draft after draft, watching her parents cautiously. The potion for healing broken bones had worked, for she heard bones clicking softly in place. She recognized that sound from when Harry had taken a similar potion after breaking several ribs and legs after Quidditch matches.

The last one left was for her father. She gripped the vial tightly. It was meant to help the trauma he'd received on his brain after the accident. Taking a shaky breath, Hermione turned to Tonks.

"I need you to magically draw the liquid into his mouth and into his stomach. Every drop needs to go in for it to work effectively." Tonks nodded firmly and raised her wand, drawing the purplish liquid from the vial. Hermione watched the liquid drain into her father's mouth, and knew that it had reached his stomach when Tonks exhaled slowly and lowered her wand.

Instantly his body began to tremble, and an alarm sounded as his body shivered uncontrollably. Hermione stumbled back, eyes widened in shock.

"Is he supposed to do that?" Tonks asked in panic, and Hermione violently shook her head.

"No, no, this isn't right…I brewed it perfectly, I tested it—he shouldn't be acting this way!"

The doors flew open and the attending doctor and resident strode in and immediately walked over to her father. "He's coding," the doctor said, and the nurses came in and ushered Hermione and Tonks away to the side.

"Dad?" Hermione whispered as they took out his intibator. Everything began happening very fast, and she could vaguely feel Tonks gripping her arm very tightly, muttering soothing words. Hermione was having none of that. Her eyes were glued in horror to the sight before her.

"Get her out of here," a male voice snapped, and she felt herself being dragged out the door. Hermione resisted and fought away from the arms that tried to take her away. She pressed herself against the cold wall directly in front of the hospital beds.

A droning sound toned continuously and Tonks whispered, "What's happening? What's that sound?" Hermione's eyes travelled to the monitors and saw the flatline. Something inside her snapped.

"Fix him," Hermione turned to Tonks with wild eyes. "I don't care what you do, do something! Fix him! _Use your bloody wand!_"

"Hermione, I—"

"FIX HIM!"

Tonks' eyes glistened and she raised her wand, casting nonverbal spell after nonverbal spell. The tone continued to beep as the doctors tried to resuscitate the man lying on the bed.

Several painful minutes went by. The doctors retreated slightly, panting.

"Time of death: 12:55 p.m."

Tonks stiffened at those words and lowered her wand, stopping the incantations. Gingerly she stuffed it in her robes. Hermione could feel her eyes on her.

"Daddy?" she whispered, horror seeping through her flesh.

_You killed him_, a tiny voice whispered, taunting her. _You fed him that potion. You were wrong. You killed him._

_Murderer._

"Hermione?" Tonks' tentative voice ripped her from her stupor. People were speaking to her, ushering her out of the room. Hermione felt nothing. Heard nothing. She felt ice enclosing her body, slowing her pulse, making her shiver.

She felt hands leading her to a sofa in the waiting room, urging her gently to sit. She complied. For a while she was left to stare into space, not really thinking of anything.

_Murderer._

The potion was flawless. It was brewed to perfection, she'd even tested it—

What went wrong?

"Hermione?"

It was Tonks again. Her normally ultraviolet hair was a dark shade of brown. She kneeled in front of Hermione, her eyes piercing Hermione's.

"I did a spell—it wasn't the potion that caused his death."

Hermione felt something inside her burn. "How do you know?" she said, finally looking at Tonks completely. "How do you know my potion didn't kill him?"

Tonks swallowed. "He-he died because his heart gave out. He already had a lot of extensive wounds, Hermione. He was dying before you gave him any potions."

"You don't know that," Hermione snapped, fire burning in her dark eyes. "It could have been a side-effect to the potion. He could have been allergic. You don't know. You have no idea."

Tonks gazed at her despairingly, then lowered her eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, Hermione," Tonks said quietly.

Hermione looked away. She felt stifled. Suddenly she stood up, causing Tonks to move away quickly. "I need to get some air."

"Hermione—"

"I expect you will stick to your word and not tell Harry and the others about this," Hermione said shortly, gazing at Tonks coldly. She felt a small twinge of regret for being so harsh, but right now she didn't care. Tonks nodded, and Hermione spun on her heel and strode out of the hospital.

Hermione could feel the anger and pain swirling inside of her in agony. Though she couldn't perform magic with her wand it didn't mean it would stay calm. She felt the electrical buzz course through her veins, pumping fiercely, blinding her with white lights and sparks. She gritted her teeth as she tried to control it, control the sparks of fury emanating from her body as her magic went haywire. Even if she didn't use a wand, she couldn't do magic. She had the trace. The Ministry would still find her. Just as Harry had cast the spell on his aunt in his third year, causing her to bloat into a balloon. The spell had been wandless and nonverbal, but magic nonetheless.

Angry sparks of magic brewed at her fingertips, and Hermione took a sharp turn, walking aimlessly as she fought for control.

_Murderer. Killer. You destroyed your family. What will your mother think when she learns the truth?_

A part of Hermione reasoned with Tonks' claim that the potion hadn't caused her father's demise. It was probable that that was the case. But this was too close to home. He had began convulsing the moment the potion entered his body. It was all her fault.

_It was an accident_, she reasoned. _I didn't kill him._

She continued to walk in subdued silence.

**xxx**

"Your mummy may have indulged in your well-being," Bellatrix's whispered harshly in Draco's ear, "but my sister has been too lenient."

Draco looked up at her derisively. He felt her hand tighten its grip on his hair, tugged it hard. Her wand was cutting into the flesh of his neck.

"Look at her," she whispered, and Draco's eyes fell to the heap of flesh on the floor, and his heart clenched when she moaned softly. "She deserves nothing better than this; she is nothing more than mudblood filth. Show your loyalty—finish her!"

Draco gazed up at Bellatrix coolly. "But Aunt Bella, I'm not allowed to do underage magic outside school. You don't want the Ministry to come in here and see this, do you?"

Bellatrix screeched and slapped him across the face, her nails leaving a bloody trail across his cheek. Draco watched as Bellatrix let him go and walked over to the girl lying on the floor. He remembered what she looked like before Bellatrix had spotted her. She was radiant.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

A jet of green light hit the girl's chest and she stilled. Draco was almost glad she was given a clean death. It was merciful. After the hours Bellatrix had toyed with her, it was an almost saint-like thing to do.

Bellatrix rounded on him with a scowl. "For your insolence," she hissed and raised her wand.

Draco closed his eyes.

"_Crucio_."

**xxx**

The Leaky Cauldron was alive and well that night. Hermione sat still, eyes trained on the half-empty glass of firewhiskey in front of her. The part of her that registered her surroundings vaguely noticed that Draco Malfoy had not showed up to drink tonight. She smirked in her drink as she finished the cup. Of course he wouldn't be here. Only the most pathetic of people spent Christmas Eve in a pub. And judging from the amount of people in the Leaky Cauldron tonight, there were quite a few pathetic people in London.

The door slammed open and Hermione turned in her seat. Malfoy sauntered inside, grabbing a wine bottle from the counter and situating himself at the far end of the room. He did not touch the drink, however, and merely stared vacantly.

Hermione remained in her seat for quite some time before she looked at her watch. It was eleven o'clock already. She contemplated to return home, but stopped.

No, she didn't want to face that reality just yet.

Hermione was a little surprised at how she was handling the death of her father. After the magic attack she felt coming, she merely quelled her anger and let numbness control her body. She didn't care about anything, just the question of how much alcohol she needed to consume until she would pass out.

"Hello, darling," a deep voice interrupted her thoughts. Hermione glanced up, and saw a tall, young-looking man smiling down at her. "Mind if I drink with ya?"

Hermione didn't answer, so the man plopped down in the seat in front of her.

"I've seen you these past few days," the man said with a smile. "Always alone. And I said to myself, 'Now how can such a pretty girl like you be drinking alone?' Though I am glad you've finally started drinking something with a bit more _kick_ to it. Makes life a whole lot easier."

Hermione ignored him. Instead she glanced back at where Malfoy was seated. It was then that she noticed the faint scars on his left cheek, as if something had attacked him. It piqued her interest.

Without another word, Hermione rose from her seat and took her glass with her, leaving the man at the table dumbstruck. She strolled over to the back end of the pub, over to where Malfoy was sitting.

His grey eyes watched her carefully as she walked over to him. He said nothing as she took a seat next to him, nor did she look at him. She merely lifted the glass to her lips and drank.

They remained in silence, and Draco picked up the wine bottle and took a generous swig. Hermione glanced at him from the corner of her eye and saw the gash on his face. Her eye widened slightly. Someone had hit him.

"You look like shit," Draco noted, finally breaking their silence. Hermione gazed at him blankly.

"I could say the same." Her eyes flickered to his cheek then back to his eyes.

He did not respond. Hermione leaned her elbow against the table and gazed into the distance. Suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder, and saw the same man who tried to sit with her earlier.

"I don't think we were finished," he smiled thinly, but she could see the sparks of anger in his eyes. Hermione turned away and took a sip. "No, I'm pretty sure we're done."

"Hey," he yanked her shoulder back so she could face him, and Hermione scowled and threw his hand off of her. "We're not done here."

"Fuck off," Draco drawled. "Just because you can't get laid with someone your age doesn't mean you become a pedophile."

Draco spoke loudly enough that the entire pub began to stare at them. The man stepped back, his cheeks aflame. "You just made the wrong enemy," the man hissed before turning to stride out of the Leaky Cauldron. Draco smirked and shook his head, taking another swig from his bottle.

Hermione was surprised that Malfoy had stood up for her. She stared at him curiously before saying softly, "Thank you."

Draco's eyes flickered to hers before looking away, tightening his jaw. He shrugged slightly.

Hermione glanced at the clock, noticing that it was well past midnight. "Merry Christmas," she said, though her voice was empty of emotion. He stared at her before replying, "Merry Christmas."

Hermione finished her drink and Draco took his last gulp from the bottle before placing it delicately on the table. He stood and drew out a few galleons and put them on the table. Hermione watched with surprise as he held his had out for her. She glanced up at his eyes and saw a blank mask on his face.

Smiling inside, she placed her hand in his.

He held her hand lightly as they stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron, his hand warm against the chill winter air. "Where do you live?" he said suddenly. She gazed at him suspiciously before he rolled his eyes. "It's midnight. I'll drop you off home."

Hermione nodded slowly and told him the directions, and they began to walk. Neither spoke, probably more out of confusion than discomfort. Hermione didn't know what was happening or why Malfoy was suddenly being very nice to her. She had expected him to throw nasty remarks at her the moment she sat next to him in the pub, but he did no such thing.

Her eyes wandered back to his cheek. "How did you get that?" she asked softly. She felt him stiffen.

"Not everybody seems to find me charming," he said lightly, sarcasm hidden behind his words. Hermione nodded, not pressing for details.

After a moment's hesitation, Draco asked, "Why have you been at the Leaky Cauldron all week? Why aren't you spending your holidays with your family?"

Hermione responded shortly, "Why have you been drinking yourself into oblivion every night? Don't you have a family waiting for you at home too?"

Draco's eyes went hard and he released her hand, stuffing his inside the pockets of his jacket. "I have no family waiting for me at home," he muttered quietly.

Hermione glanced up at him in shock. After a moment, she tentatively said, "Me either."

It was Draco's turn to gaze at her. What? How could she not have anyone to spend the holidays with? Surely Potter and the gang would welcome her to spend the holidays with them? What of her family?

"My parents got into an accident," Hermione answered his thoughts, and Draco's head snapped to stare at her incredulously. "They've been in the hospital all holiday. That's why I haven't been…you know…with anyone else lately."

Draco felt a flicker of pain for her, but immediately shook it away. They turned onto a back road when Draco said quietly, "My father's in prison and my mother's gone missing. There's nothing waiting for me at home either."

Hermione breathed in deeply, feeling tears welling in her eyes. "I watched someone die today."

Draco glanced at her sharply. His mind wandered back to the girl fallen on the floor of Malfoy Manor. Slowly, he admitted, "As did I."

Now Draco could see the tears clearly swirling in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall just yet. Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "What a fantastic world we live in."

"The best," Draco agreed sardonically.

They stopped in front of a modest-looking house covered in snow. Hermione pulled off her gloves and hastily searched through her purse. She retrieved a bronze key, and turned to face him.

"Well, good night, Draco," she said softly.

He gazed at her in the moonlight, puffs of cold air coming from his mouth. "Good night."

She put up a small smile before putting the key in the lock and opening the door. He glanced at her once more before she closed the door behind her.

Draco let out a breath before something caught his eye. It was a small black glove; the same one Hermione had been wearing a few moments ago. Reaching down Draco picked it up, brushing the snow from it.

He knocked on the door a few times. When she didn't answer, he said, "Er, Granger? You, ah, left this behind…" He turned the knob and the door surprisingly opened. His eyes widened when he saw Hermione huddled on the floor a few feet away from the door, as if she didn't have the will to walk any farther before she broke down.

She glanced at him and he saw tears running down her face endlessly. His throat constricted and he shifted awkwardly, not knowing what to do. She turned back and a small sob choked out of her, shaking her shoulders as she hid her face in her palms.

Draco closed the door softly and took a few steps towards her. He sank to his knees, placing the glove near her, and began to pat her back. She cried harder, and Draco couldn't bear to hear the sound of her cries. Her hands covered her eyes as her fingers reach into her hair. They curled viciously and Draco saw strands of hair rip out from her scalp as she cried. Draco sat beside her, pulled her close and firmly wrapped his arms around her. He could feel every tremor that went through her, every shiver that wracked her body. He felt her slowly move her arms around his waist as she clutched on to the fabric of his coat.

He rocked her gently in his embrace, and she choked out, "It was my father." Her voice trembled heavily as he rubbed her back gently. "I want him back. It's my fault he's dead. I want him _back_."

Draco didn't know what to say, so he continued to hold her until her cries lessened, until the vicious tears stop flowing down her cheeks, until her body stopped trembling and lay limp in his arms.

* * *

><p><strong>I know, it's a <strong>_**tad **_**bit late. But I'd rather write something worthwhile in three weeks' time than garbage in three days' time.**

**Thank you lovely people once again! I think Dramione lovers are probably one of the nicest people here :)**

**As usual, reviews are most welcome. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The first tendrils of sunlight were seeping faintly through the white curtains, casting soft light on the walls of the living room. The air was pleasantly warm, the ground soft. The realization that he was utterly at peace was what forced Draco's eyes open.

The first thing he realized was that he was not at Malfoy Manor. Where his house's walls were blackened with ancient, majestic architecture, this one was simple and quaint with white walls and pliant furniture. His eyes roved his surroundings and he sat up quickly. Draco was sitting on a dark sofa, and a coffee table was a foot away. He noticed with bemusement that a quilted blanket had been draped on him, but now fell to his lap. He shrugged it off.

Opposite him was a black, rectangular box mounted on the wall, and below it a small shelf filled small rectangular cases. Furrowing his eyes in confusion, he stood up and carefully walked towards the wall, curiosity etched on his face. The front of the large black rectangle was glossy, and he could see his reflection through it. A black mirror? What use was that? His eyes narrowed at a row of small circles jutting from the surface edge of the black mirror. His index finger traced over it curiously.

He pushed a button down.

Immediately Draco stumbled backwards and cursed as his calf hit the coffee table. The box had erupted with life and was flashing moving images of people and loud sounds of their voices were filling the living room. Frantically he rushed back and pushed down on the circles, trying to end what he started, but the images merely changed every time he clicked one.

On instinct he reached into his pocket and whipped out his wand, pointing it angrily at the rectangle on the wall.

"Wait!"

Draco blinked when the sounds and images stopped, and the box was silent once more. He turned around to see Hermione standing with her arm pointed towards the box with her wand too.

No, not a wand. Something else. Something thicker with more little buttons it. Something definitively muggle.

"What," Draco said through his teeth, "is that?"

Hermione carefully put the device on the coffee table, not breaking eye contact with Draco.

"It's a television."

"…A what?"

"A television. A form of muggle entertainment." She gazed at him for a moment before sighing exasperatedly. "Can you put your wand down now? It's not going to eat you. And I really don't want to explain to my mother why a boy decided to stupefy the TV."

Draco frowned but complied, lowering his wand and putting it back in his pocket. Suddenly he felt awkward as he watched her breathe in relief, a hand running through her messy brown locks. His eyes flickered over her, and his thoughts reflected on last night.

He had only opened the door to return her glove. It was stupid, really. He hadn't even expected the door to open. Much to his surprise, he found Hermione Granger huddled on the floor crying silently, as if the very air she breathed was poisonous.

The next thing he knew, he was crouched beside her and holding her tight against his body, trying make the tears stop running down her broken face.

He hadn't been thinking. He was no longer Draco Malfoy at that moment, and she was not Hermione Granger. Something in him fractured at the somber sight, and his body had moved on its own.

He remembered the shudders that ran through her body as the tears ceased to run. He remembered her pulling back a bit, silent, and staring at him with a mixture of pain, gratitude, and utter confusion. He remembered lifting his fingers to her cheeks and brushing away a stray tear.

He also remembered how not a single word had passed between them after Hermione's outburst that she had unintentionally killed her father. He didn't understand how that was possible and how much of that was true, but the fact that it had worked Hermione into a complete meltdown meant that something serious had happened in regards to her father.

Draco could feel his neck turning pink as he recalled how she had leaned into his chest and fallen asleep, tired from her day and from the excessive crying. After a while his legs had gone numb from sitting in the same position, so he gingerly lifted Granger in his arms and trudged upstairs. He wasn't sure which room was hers, and it was by chance that the one he'd decided on had an owl cage and a Hogwarts trunk inside. Carefully he placed her on the bed and retreated.

His first thought had been to Apparate back home, but the moment he began to try he felt his mind swirling. Clearly the copious amounts of wine he'd ingested was still doing fuzzy things to his head. Then he remembered he wasn't allowed to do magic anyway, and he was not looking forward to stumbling around drunkenly back to Malfoy Manor only to end up in snogging distance with a dementor. Grudgingly he'd taken a post on the living room couch, and was dead to the world within minutes.

Draco's eyes wandered back to the couch where the quilt lay forgotten. Hermione must have draped it over him sometime during the night.

He cleared his throat. "Erm. Thanks for the blanket."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "What? Oh…no problem."

He shifted awkwardly. Hermione rubbed her arm nervously, similar to when she'd come down the grand staircase to meet him for Slughorn's Christmas party. Tensioned silence filled the air.

"Look, Granger," Draco finally broke the silence. "Even though last night I—we—ah…" his words faltered as he saw the surprised look on her face again.

_Pull yourself together!_ his mind barked. _You're Draco _bloody_ Malfoy; you do not stutter!_

"Right, right," he agreed quietly with his mind, earning him an arched eyebrow from Hermione. He cleared his throat again, locking his gaze on her firmly. "Even though what happened yesterday…just…don't expect anything from me."

She looked at him softly, contemplatively, before quietly replying, "I don't."

He stared at her, and she stared right back.

"Right then," he said gruffly. "See you at Hogwarts."

He turned to leave when she said suddenly, "Wait!" He glanced at her, and he saw a moment of panic on her face before she quickly schooled her face in an indifferent mask. "I'm sure you're still slightly hungover from last night. And I didn't get to properly…thank you," she seemed to force the last bit out, and a grimace was on her face. "Let me at least make you breakfast." He gave her a deadpanned look. "Tea?"

"Coffee would be nice," he found himself saying, and his eyes widened. She didn't notice and a small smile flitted across her face before she became serious and said, rather sternly, "Well, follow me, then."

He found himself silently cursing as he obeyed, following her as she marched down the hall and disappeared into a large open room. He entered and saw a kitchen just like any other, but with many differences that marked it as a muggle kitchen.

He sat stiffly on a barstool, hands folded delicately on the counter. He watched her as she bustled around the kitchen, putting a saucepan on a black surface. She turned a knob and blue flames erupted beneath it automatically. Draco couldn't help but be interested at the muggle way of life that Hermione had grown up with. It certainly was…different.

He looked outside and noticed snow was falling. He smirked. Snow on Christmas. How sentimental.

A thought struck him. "It's warm," he blurted, and Hermione poured water into the pan.

"I hope your observational skills weren't a factor to your sorting into Slytherin."

He rolled his eyes. "It's snowing outside. But it's warm in here. How are you doing that without magic?"

Hermione could have laughed at the genuinely perplexed expression on Malfoy's face. Suppressing a grin, she answered, "It's called central heating. The heat comes from the vents all around the house."

He didn't seem to believe her as he snorted and shook his head. Hermione's eye twitched. Dumping the coffee mix inside the pan, she stalked over beside Draco and crooked her finger. "Get up."

He gazed at her coolly and did not move. She felt her patience running out. "Get up, Malfoy, and see how muggles warm themselves. Surely your pureblooded self can handle that much?"

He smirked and slid off the stool, following Granger's orders once again. She didn't walk far, and she suddenly looked up at the ceiling. His eyes followed the path of her gaze and he stared at a vent.

"Exhibit A," she announced, and reached up, just a few inches from the vent, and stretched her fingers. "Heat."

Draco refused to follow suit, even after Hermione encouraged it, and felt even more foolish when she forcibly lifted his arm and pushed it in front of the vent. He felt the hot air push out from the vent and onto his fingers, and a pleasant warmth reached down his arm.

He lowered his arm and gaze at her, unfazed. "Nothing I haven't seen before. Hogwarts has these all around the school."

"Yes, but those are fueled by _magic_," she emphasized, and then turned around to continue walking, and he figured he was supposed to follow after her. With reluctance he paused in front of two metal doors, and Hermione pulled on the knobs that opened them. Revealed was a massive cylinder that was making an incredible amount of noise, a soft orange glow emanating from the bottom.

"Exhibit B," she continued, "heat_er_."

"Fascinating," he drawled, but couldn't help but wonder how the burner was functioning without the slightest bit of magical aid. He didn't press on, knowing full well that Hermione was capable of going on long rampaging lectures about any subject known to man.

The walked back into the kitchen, and Hermione quickly turned the knob on the stove and the blue flames disappeared. She opened a cabinet and took out a mug, then turned the faucet to wash it briskly before pouring the contents in the saucepan into the cup.

Everything she did was flawless, even if it was wandless.

_Mudblood,_ he heard the high whisper of Bellatrix. He frowned, trying to push the angry thought away.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked as she placed the mug of coffee before him. He nodded stiffly. "Are you sure? You just seem—"

"I'm fine," he snapped, fuming as he stared into the coffee mug.

Hermione scowled. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. It's not like I care, anyway."

Draco watched as she angrily poured herself a cup and leaned against the counter, refusing to look at him.

A few minutes passed in silence, and Hermione finally raised her eyes to watch Draco Malfoy. Part of her was reeling that he was sitting here, in her kitchen, drinking coffee. There were so many elements to how _wrong_ that sounded, she nearly laughed. There he was, still in the robes he was last night in the bar. In a strange twist in events, Draco Malfoy had not only fended off a drunk man from Hermione at the Leaky Cauldron, but he had walked her home, returned a forgotten glove, comforted her when she broke down in sobs, and laid her in her bed when she'd accidentally fallen asleep on him.

On top of that, he had stayed the night in her living room.

It puzzled her, because she hadn't expected him to be there, sleeping on her sofa when she'd trudged down the stairs to pour herself a glass of water. Her throat had been painfully dry, and the jolt of shock that ran through her nerve-endings made her pause as she stared at the sleeping form that was Malfoy.

She couldn't say that he looked innocent asleep, because truthfully his expression scared the living daylights out of her. His expression was hard, his brows furrowed in discontentment as he breathed evenly. He appeared stiff, uncomfortable, even. Hermione's feet moved on their own accord as she brought from her room a spare quilted blanket, and draped it softly on him and bringing it up to his chin. Her fingers lightly grazed a pale cheek, where remnants of the attack that scarred his flesh still ghosted on his porcelain skin.

She looked at him now, and saw the fresh wounds from last night still on his cheek. What had caused them? Who had hurt him, Draco Malfoy, the most smug and pampered boy on the planet, and gotten away with it?

Draco caught her staring and growled unceremoniously, "_What?_"

Hermione jumped. "N-nothing." He continued to glare at her suspiciously and she sighed exasperatedly. "Nothing, okay? Are you done with your coffee?"

His jaw tightened and he nodded stiffly, pushing the empty mug away. Hermione glanced at him again when she reached for it, and asked tentatively, "Are you ever going to tell me what happened to your cheek?"

Draco's grey eyes hardened. "Are _you_ ever going to tell me how exactly you 'killed' your father?"

Hermione's throat constricted at his harsh words, and her eyes went cold. "Fuck you."

Draco's eyes widened. He hit a soft spot, one he knew he shouldn't have and instantly regretted his words. "Granger, I—"

"Get out of my house."

The ice in her words made him freeze. Before he could think, he found the words tumbling from his lips, "I'm sorry."

Hermione made no notion of acknowledgement, merely staring at him with the same icy coldness. Draco felt incredibly stupid for bringing last night up the way he did. For fuck's sake, she had lost her father _yesterday_. And from Granger's troubled words, there was some serious drama concerning his death.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

A thought vaguely crossed his mind, wondering why he cared so much about hurting Hermione's feelings, and his automatic response was that he _didn't_, but as he continued to stare at the hollow depths of her irises, he found a pang crossing his heart, and before he could stop himself he stood up from the barstool and maneuvered around the counter to where Hermione was standing just a foot away. Silently he took the mug from her grasp, surprising her as her eyes widened and her small fingers fell away from the cup.

He nearly smiled at her startled expression but kept his face blank as he approached the sink. He turned the faucet and began washing the mug carefully, taking dish soap in his hands and cleaning the ceramic surfaces. He thought he heard a small gasp in her direction, but chose to ignore it.

Hermione had to be dreaming. Draco Malfoy was _washing dishes?_ Did the universe suddenly tear in half?

She smiled incredulously as she watched him squeeze dish soap on his fingers and began manually cleaning the cup. No longer able to contain herself, she walked over to him and stood beside him. "You know, it's a lot easier washing with a sponge."

She reached behind the sink and took one out of the basket, handing it to him. He raised a brow and answered, "Why thank you, Granger. I'd never have known the magical prowess of such an object."

"Good thing I'm here then to tell you," she bantered lightly, and she saw the corners of Draco's lips quirk upwards, but it was short-lived as he pulled up his stoic exterior and refocused himself onto the cup in his hands.

He finished quickly, wiping the water off with a dish towel, then setting it face down in the dish rack. Hermione could say she was impressed, but it really didn't take a brain surgeon to know how to clean something. It only shocked her because, knowing Malfoy and his family, the idea of doing such demeaning tasks would have caused a stroke through their pureblooded little hearts. With a grimace she recalled how Dobby used to serve them, and she shivered at the thought of all the other house-elves that slaved over the Malfoys day-in and day-out.

He stared at her now, and she knew his actions were his own bizarre form of an apology. Which, to Hermione's dismay, she accepted without qualms. She figured the scars on his cheek were a sensitive subject, and she _did_ remember him confessing that he'd seen somebody die last night as well. She pondered over what could have happened to him. What sent him in a drinking frenzy every night? What was causing him such misery?

Instantly she recalled his words. _My father's in prison and my mother's gone missing. There's nothing waiting for me at home_.

His father had been in Azkaban since summer, so that couldn't have been what was disturbing him so.

_My mother's gone missing. _

Her gaze flickered at Draco's, searching for something hidden in his eyes, something she was sure she'd seen last night. But his face was neutral, carefully concealing any kind of emotion or thought that might be plaguing his mind at the moment.

"Malfoy," she began, and his eyes snapped to hers. "I'm going to Diagon Alley today."

He continued to stare at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. She suppressed a sigh of exasperation. She'd hoped he would get the hint.

"Come with me."

It wasn't a question, more like a statement as she stared at Draco expectantly. He wasn't sure he'd heard her right, so he repeated, "You want me to go with you to Diagon Alley. _Me._"

"Is there any other smarmy Slytherin in the room I could be talking of?" she said sarcastically. He scowled.

"And if I don't want to?"

"Well then, I'll have to ask you to leave because I'm going right now, and I don't entirely trust you staying in my house with too many confusing Muggle devices to entertain yourself with."

He smirked at that, and shook his head. He stretched a bit and stared at her. "Well then, let's not wait for the grass to grow."

Hermione scowled and strode out of the kitchen and up to her room, changing quickly into a pair of jeans and boots with a warm sweater and a light brown button-down coat. She was putting on her scarf and hat when she found Draco leaning against the door lazily, his warm cloak wrapped tightly around him.

She wanted to yell at him for looking absolutely flawless in a minute's time when it took her a good fifteen just to manage the rushed appearance she was sporting. Perhaps, she admitted with grudging admiration, it was the natural aristocratic elegance all the Malfoys seemed to possess. They all had the sleek blonde hair and pale skin that contrasted sharply with the dark color of their robes, the delicate appearance of their bone structure and persona. He could be wearing a pillow case and still look flawless.

_No wonder he's always so full of himself,_ Hermione mused gloweringly. _One look in the mirror and he'll be smiling for days._

They headed out the door and snow was still falling softly on the ground. Hermione glanced at the long road they'd need to walk to reach Diagon Alley, and dreaded it. With some satisfaction she noticed the roads had already been cleared and salted, and it was with that conviction that she began not walking to the sidewalk, but to the driveway.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, following hot on her heels. He seemed confused so she cleared it up for him. "Why, to Diagon Alley, of course." Hermione gave a mischievous smile before reaching in her purse and retrieving a set of keys, and clicked a button. Her garage door opened and revealed a sleek black car, one that was to be her own for when she officially received her driver's license. Luckily she had her permit, and she prayed no police car decided to pull her over.

She walked over to the driver's side of the car and opened the door. She noticed Malfoy was not moving from the entrance of the garage. "Get in."

"No."

Hermione scowled. "Malfoy, it's just a car."

"I don't care. I'm not sitting in that death machine."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing? Draco Malfoy actually afraid of a car?"

"There are no anti-accident charms nor indestructible enchantments on that thing, and I sure as _hell_ don't trust your driving. So no, I don't think I'll get in."

She narrowed her eyes. "Fine, then. Have a nice walk."

Hermione sat inside and closed the door. Putting the key in ignition, she started it and put the gear in reverse, easing out slowly from the driveway and sliding out onto the street. She paused, watching as Malfoy stood stark still with a murderous expression on his face. She noticed he was shivering too, and his hands were jammed in the pockets of his robes.

She quirked her brow and tilted her head, waiting. Finally, after many long seconds, Draco strode angrily to the car and swung open the door. Slamming it shut, he glared at her. "If I die," he growled with a thunderous expression, "my father _will_ hear about it."

"I'm sure he will," she said dryly and began driving on the icy roads. "Seatbelt."

The odd pair arrived at the Leaky Cauldron in a matter of minutes. Draco had cursed nonstop throughout the car ride, muttering things close to 'stupid muggle contraptions' and 'die' several times under his breath. Hermione paid no need and happily parked the car, not waiting for him to catch up with her.

"Why do you need to go to this bloody place anyway?" Draco said irritatedly, falling in step with her.

"I have a few things I need to return," she replied evasively. They stepped into the Leaky Cauldron and Hermione was walking to the back entrance when she noticed he was no longer following her. Turning around, she found him leaning against the bar area and buying himself a drink.

"I didn't bring you hear so you can booze it up, Malfoy!" she said indignantly. "Don't you already have crippling hangover from last night?"

"What hangover?" he replied innocently, a sneer curling around his lips. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Granger. You didn't expect me to follow you around all over the bloody village, did you?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," she muttered under her breath. "Don't get too hammered. I don't particularly want you returned to your home singing 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds' to your dear fellow relatives."

Malfoy smirked and turned away as a drink was handed to him. She shook her head. Honestly, if he didn't control this inane drinking problem, he will end up with a failing liver within the next few days. And why on earth did this bar serve minors so readily?

Perhaps because of the fact that he was a Malfoy.

Shrugging, Hermione exited into the back and tapped the bricks on the wall, and they parted into an archway once more.

She walked slowly around until she came up to Slug and Jiggers Apothecary. A wave of emotion hit her and she felt her mind slowly slipping back into despair. Fighting off the sudden feelings, she clenched her jaw and stepped inside.

The room was still dimly lit as it always was. She felt a rush of warmth once she closed the door, leaving the bone-chilling cold outside. Removing her gloves and stuffing them in her pockets, she maneuvered to the front counter immediately.

The same apathetic boy was leaning lazily against the counter, his head propped up by his arm against the countertop. At Hermione's presence he opened a bleary eye.

"Fancy seeing you again so soon," he murmured, straightening so he could fight off the sleep that seemed to hover over his eyelids.

"I'm just here to return some things," she answered evenly, and retrieved a few unopened bottles from her purse and placed them delicately on the counter. The boy raised a brow and waved his wand, and the bottles shivered a bit before growing still once more. "Seems you haven't tampered with them," he affirmed, and flicked his wand again and sent them back to the shelves around the store. "Your change."

A small lump of gold was sitting before her and she put them in her money pouch. "Thank you."

As she turned to leave, the boy said suddenly, "Did the potion not work?"

Hermione turned her head slightly. "Excuse me?"

"The potion for the bloke you were trying to heal. I know my way around my potions ingredients, miss," the boy said easily. "You were healing some serious injuries."

Hermione thought back to the vacant look on her father's face before she had left the hospital. Narrowing her eyes, she replied coldly, "It failed me."

Without another word she turned on her heel and marched out the door.

It took a few moments for her to gain composure over herself, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to control her emotions. It was only yesterday that her father was pronounced dead. And here she was, traipsing around Diagon Alley when she should have been by her mother's side, the last remaining member of her immediate family.

Her eyes wandered over to a dark corridor to the left of the apothecary, and knew it to be the entrance of Knockturn Alley. Slowly, as if her feet were moving on their own accord, she descended down the steps and disappeared into the less than reputable alley.

**xxx**

Draco knew the moment he pressed the intoxicating liquid to his lips that he would regret it.

Like a dam splitting open, a floodgate of memories poured into his mind and made him tremble. The grip on the glass was dangerously close to shattering it, but he didn't care.

Last night's run-in with Granger had clouded his thoughts from what had been troubling him the past week. Now remembered his mother, and how he knew Voldemort was keeping her from him. He remembered the burning tattoo that hovered just beneath the skin of his forearm, and the task he was expected to go through with, one he knew he would never be able to complete. He remembered that he was stuck in this mess with zero contact with his parents for solace. Bellatrix Lestrange was stationed at his house, and she had tortured and murdered a muggleborn girl in his parlor right in front of him.

Bile rose in his throat and he grimaced. He recalled how the life dimmed from the girl's eyes, how she became suddenly still and unresponsive. He watched an innocent witch die, and he did nothing.

_Coward_, his mind whispered. _You are shame to the human race._

Hermione reappeared inside the Leaky Cauldron looking dreadful. She looked as if she'd just seen a boggart, but he noticed something different, something that he saw only a flicker of when he arrived at the Leaky Cauldron last night, before Granger had decided to sit next to him. It was when the stranger had been sitting with her, trying to chat her up. Her eyes held the same lifeless expression. Draco shuddered inwardly.

She walked over to him gracefully. "I'm finished," she announced softly.

He stared up at her. Looking away he murmured, "Go on. I'll find my way back home alright."

She stared at him with a hint of surprise and then nodded, walking away towards the exit. He heard the door open, a small bell chiming, and then heard it close tightly.

_I don't need her_, he thought silently. Though the more times he said it, the less conviction he felt.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the palm of his hand. Through his eyelids he sensed a shift in light, and the air moved around him. Somebody had taken a seat next to him, but he ignored it. He knew better than to look up. Knowing his short temper and lack of patience, Draco would probably end up saying a few things he'd regret, and the situation would escalate to unfortunate heights. For his own sake, he kept his eyes squeezed shut.

"Lovely day, today," the man beside him wheezed throatily. Draco nodded vaguely and took another sip of his firewhiskey, showing every indication that he was not up to having a conversation with the stranger.

"You know," the man continued in a gravelly voice, "you look familiar."

_For fuck's sake, _Draco sighed inwardly and decided his happy hour at the Leaky Cauldron was coming to an abrupt close.

"That's right!" the man said gleefully. "You're Lucius Malfoy's boy. Tell me, how _is_ he in Azkaban? Hope a dementor didn't decide to snog him. Then again, Narcissa will finally have the chance to be with a more…_eligible_ wizard."

The glass broke in Draco's hand and he whipped out his wand automatically, growling at the wizard beside him as he pointed it at the offender's heart. He froze when he saw who it was.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Draco hissed. The man sneered smugly.

"I've come to collect you," he replied innocently, and Draco narrowed his eyes.

"I doubt that. Why are you following me?"

The man's gaze grew cold. "I'm not here because I want to be," he replied icily, his lips curling in faint disgust. "Bella sent for you, knowing that you can't 'do magic outside school' yet…good God, you really must have pissed the bitch off." His eyes flickered to Draco's cheek for a split second.

"Fuck off," Draco retorted. "Why does she want?"

A smile began spreading on the man's face. "Meeting number two is about to begin. Knowing you can't apparate when the Dark Mark begins to burn, I came here to bring you."

Draco could feel his insides melting as dread filled him instantly. Why the hell did they need another fucking meeting? Wasn't the first one enough? Why was the Dark Lord bothering himself with the Death Eaters' presence this frequently?

Sighing, Draco emptied his glass and stood, finally lowering his wand. He stood up and brushed the imaginary lint from his cloak. "Let's not waste time, then, Scabior."

They walked outside and the snow had picked up speed, falling down harshly as the wind whipped it in the air. Draco drew his cloak closer to himself and put up his hood.

"Who was that girl you were talking to?" he said suddenly, and Draco froze. Scabior looked at him inquiringly, though he could see darker thoughts in his eyes.

Schooling his face in a blank expression, Draco replied, "How the fuck would I know? You know how girls are around me." To prove his point, Draco began to smirk.

Scabior eyed him for a moment before turning away and smirking himself. "Well, next time before you turn someone down, send her to me. From what I saw she looked fucking hot."

Draco fingers tightened their grip on his cloak, jaw clenching. "You didn't see her face," Draco responded in a bored tone. "I've seen trolls with better looks."

Scabior barked out a laugh and held out his arm, which Draco took unwillingly. "Have fun finding yourself a female," he said with amusement. Draco's eyes darkened and began to reply when the air escaped him as they disapparated.

**xxx**

"How has she been feeling?" Hermione asked softly. The nurse smiled.

"She's been quite well, dear. Her vitals have stabilized. We expect she'll be waking soon." The nurse gave an encouraging smile and left the room.

Hermione watched her leave and turned back to the still form of her mother on the hospital bed. Hermione's hand was in hers, her thumb stroking the back of her hand lightly.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered, staring imploringly at her mother's face. She looked almost serene, and the worst of the bruising seemed to have disappeared. The potion Hermione had administered was showing results. "I want you to get better. I want you to wake up and hold me and make everything better…" She shuddered as her breathing became uneven.

"But at the same time…I'm sorry…I don't know if I want you to wake up at all." Tears unknowingly slid down her cheeks. "I can't handle you waking up and finding your husband is dead. I can't handle you having the doubt that maybe I…maybe I really did kill him. I don't want you to hate me. Please don't hate me." Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears to stop. They ceased, and after taking another shuddering breath, she gazed at her sleeping mother once more.

Hermione's pale hand brushed against her cheek and she stepped away. "Happy Christmas," she muttered softly. Her eyes flickered to the clock on the wall and saw it was time to leave. "I'll be back soon."

Turning away, she strode out of the hospital without looking back.

**xxx**

"What the hell happened to you, mate?" Blaise's deep voice said, and Draco cringed at the level of his voice.

"You really shouldn't ask questions that you don't want an answer to," Draco muttered, gingerly wiping blood from his lip. "And I thought I told everyone that I didn't want guests over for Christmas this year."

Blaise smirked. "As if that would keep me away. Even _if_ certain dark wizards are stationed at your home." Draco's eyes sharpened but Blaise continued to smirk. "Stop looking so bloody surprised, Malfoy. I saw a glimpse of Rookwood when your house-elf let me in."

"And that wasn't indication enough to leave immediately?" snapped Draco irritatedly. Blaise merely fixed him with a cool stare.

"Not really, no."

"Aren't you the brave one," Draco muttered sarcastically. "I think the Sorting hat got you wrong. You're more a Gryffindor."

"Ouch," Blaise feigned hurt, before smiling. "You might have scared off Pansy, and Crabbe and Goyle don't have brains enough to put up a fight, but you were thick to think I'd run off so easy."

"And what a good friend you are, then," Draco hissed, before wincing as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. One of his cuts was bleeding again.

"You really should get that fixed," noted Blaise.

"Good idea. Let me go call Aunt Bella. I'm sure she'd be thrilled to cure these for me," Draco bit out. "Maybe she'll give a lollipop afterwards."

"No need to be such a prat, Draco," snapped Blaise.

"What were you expecting, Blaise? A fucking unicorn and marshmallows?" Draco closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "I'm sorry. I have a lot on my mind."

"Clearly," said Blaise. Silence passed over them. "I don't know what happened to you, Draco, but you really should get someone to look at those wounds." He opened the door and began to walk out but paused, deciding to leave him with a parting word. "There's always a choice, Draco. It's up to you to decide what you want to do with yourself. I'll see at Hogwarts."

The door closed firmly behind him and Draco let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, staring at his reflection with disdain. He stared into his silvery eyes, seeing nothing inside of them that he liked.

"Lola," he called softly. A loud crack echoed against the tiled walls of the bathroom and a small house-elf appeared.

"How can I serve you, Master?" she squeaked, bowing deeply.

"I need you to fix some of my wounds," he said, and she bowed again before jumping towards him. Elf magic was vastly different from wizard magic, and he felt sharp pinpricks around his sides and face where he knew he had been hurt. Immediately the burning sensation turned icy, and he knew he had been mostly healed.

"Thanks," he muttered, gingerly touching his face again as he stared into his reflection once more. The house-elf's eyes widened comically. She began to splutter endlessly when he spoke again quickly.

"I need something else," he interrupted her massive compliments.

"Anything, Master."

He gazed at the mirror again. "I need you to apparate me somewhere. I'd walk but I'd rather do this a bit more discreetly. And…" he lowered his voice as he spoke to Lola, and had anyone seen him at that moment they would not have believed that Draco Malfoy was capable of blushing, even if it was the slightest of tinges across his cheeks.

The little elf bobbed her head repeatedly and disapparated briefly before returning with a basket, holding it out for him to grasp.

She held out her small hand. He took it and murmured where he wanted to go, and with a deafening _crack_ they disappeared.

The snow was drifting lazily now. The street on which he was standing had fluorescent lights hanging from the roofs of houses, and decorations placed intricately on the front lawns. He took a shaky breath as he saw the house in front of him had none of that sort.

"Lola," said Draco in a commanding tone. "I want you to go back to Malfoy Manor and continue what you were doing before I summoned you. If anybody asks, you were cleaning the basement in the time that I required your help. You do not know where I am. You have not seen me all day. As your master, you are obliged to follow _my_ orders first, so if Bellatrix or anybody else asks, that is what you say." She nodded her head fervently. He sighed. "Good. I want you back here at midnight so you can apparate me back home."

"As you wish, Master Draco," Lola bowed deeply, then disapparated.

Once he was alone on the sidewalk, Draco suddenly felt very unsure of himself. He really should have thought this through more.

But curse him, it was Christmas. And if he couldn't have his mother's company, and if he was too much of a prick to accept Blaise's company, then he'd do the seemingly next best option.

Doubt and confusion clouding his mind, Draco began to walk up towards a quaint house and walked up the steps. The sun was gone by now, and the street lamps flickered on softly.

Clearing his throat a little, he knocked on the door three times.

He was met with one of the most dreadful silences he'd ever experienced. In the ten seconds that had passed his mind went berserk, thinking of every horrible thing that could happen how everything could turn into a massive disaster and he would be stuck walking home without Lola because he ordered her to return at midnight and—

At that precise moment he heard a click and the door swung open. Surprised brown eyes met his grey ones.

"Erm," he said lamely. "Happy Christmas." Hermione stared at him blankly. He coughed and held out the basket in his hand. "I brought food."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. Draco shifted uncomfortably before snapping, "Well are you going to let me in?"

"Y-yes," she replied quickly when she saw a fleeting look of rejecting cross over his eyes. The look disappeared immediately at her words, and he smirked a little. She moved to the side to let him enter, and closed the door softly behind him and set the lock.

She watched as he shrugged out of his cloak and set it carefully on the coat rack. He was still holding the basket as he walking to the kitchen as if he'd done it a million times before. Slowly she trailed behind him, shock still etched on her face.

Draco was busy taking the contents of the basket out onto the counter as she watched him in disbelief.

"Er, Malfoy…" she started and his head snapped up. "What exactly are you doing here?"

"What does it look like, Granger?" he said irritatedly.

"I don't really know," she admitted.

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and sighed deeply. "Look, I'd really appreciate it if we didn't question this. Just…go with it, okay?"

"As much as I'd like to say yes, I don't think I can," Hermione responded with a quirk of her brow. "I mean, it's not as if we're best mates, Malfoy. I can't help but be caught a little off guard when you show up at my doorstep with a basket of food for dinner."

He scowled. "I was here this morning, wasn't I?"

She frowned. "Yes, up until you decided to ditch me to play beer pong at the Leaky Cauldron."

He waved her comment off as if it were unimportant. "Details," he muttered. Taking a moment to gain composure again, he glanced up at her expectant face. "I just thought…considering your circumstances and mine…that it'd be nice not to spend Christmas alone."

Her eyebrows shot in the air again. Hermione was floored. He wanted to…spend _time_ with her?

"But you hate me," she blurted. Malfoy smirked.

"Not a very original argument, Granger," he replied, and she remembered back in the girls' bathroom when she had said the same thing, right before they kissed.

A tinge of red graced her cheeks and Draco's smirk widened as if he knew exactly what she was thinking about. "Let bygones be bygones, Granger. It's Christmas. I think we can forget our undying hatred for each other for just one night, no?"

Letting his words sink into her, she reluctantly nodded. "Alright," she answered softly.

He nodded in affirmation and resumed his task of taking food out of the basket. She walked over to the stove and checked the several pans she had on it. Draco eventually finished with his basket and turned to gaze at her. "You were making all this food for yourself?" he said with a hint of amusement.

She shrugged. "Well, I thought I'd just cook it all anyway. I was supposed to have dinner with my parents but…well, I guess once Mum wakes up, we'll eat the leftovers together. But I doubt any of this food will be finished."

He grimaced as he remembered what had happened to her these past few days. Clearing his throat to break the uncomfortable tension, and more importantly to bring Hermione back from whatever sad memories that had begun to spill into her mind, he spoke up. "Well, good thing I'm here now. I don't think you know what happens to me at the Hogwarts feasts, do you?"

She surprised him by chuckling. "I've caught glimpses here and there. You're almost as bad as Ron. Except, well, more dignified."

Malfoy sneered and lifted his chin haughtily in the air. "Of course I am. Don't forget, Granger, but around these parts I'm considered royalty. Table etiquette is in my genes."

Hermione snorted and shook her head, stirring something in one of the pans with a wooden spoon. "Right."

He eventually walked beside her and, with her strict instructions, began helping her make some of the dinner she had planned out. Several times he found his face scrunched in disgust as he murmured something about 'beneath his standards' as he peeled the skin off of a chicken leg, before dumping it unceremoniously in a vat with the others. Hermione found herself having to suppress her outbursts of laughter several times. It was extremely amusing seeing Draco's attempt at cooking the muggle way—no, his attempt at cooking in general. She thought of all the house-elves that must be keeling over in horror at the thought of Draco getting his delicate little hands dirtied by the common workings inside of a kitchen.

An hour later the food was all prepared, and Hermione told Draco to go back into the living room with the various pots of food. She didn't really like the idea of sitting in silence in the dining room, and the informal atmosphere of the living room was much more inviting. Plus, she had a secret wish to see his reaction once she turned on the television again.

She entered the living room with a jug of tea and two plates. Draco was already lounging comfortably on the sofa. She passed him a plate and a few utensils, and the two began piling their plates with roasted chicken and spiced rice and mashed potatoes. Draco had brought garlic bread and a few pies, which were situated at the right end of the coffee table. She grabbed a roll of bread and settle against the sofa comfortably. She reached to the side and pulled a small handle that released a footrest on the sofa. Stretching wide, she was now almost lying on the sofa. Draco raised a brow.

"Lift the lever on the side of the sofa," she told him, and he did the same. The bottom end of the sofa was released and they were reclined comfortably next to each other. Hermione grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned it on. It started loudly and Draco jumped.

"Bugger, not this again," he grimaced, but Hermione merely smiled mischievously. "Oh, hush. This is actually pretty entertaining."

"About as much as a doxy bite," he muttered under his breath. He watched her click several buttons on the remote repeatedly before settling on something.

He stared in confusion as he watched little people move around on the screen. "And what is this called?" he asked her.

"Jurassic Park," she replied, taking a bite of chicken. He muttered incoherently and began to eat as well. To his surprise Hermione was a very good cook, and he found himself finishing everything off his plate and dumping a second helping onto it. He almost complimented her cooking but refrained when he saw the smug, knowing look on her face. No need to give an ego boost where it wasn't necessary.

After forty or so minutes Draco finally broke the silence. "They're all idiots," he snapped, staring at the screen in indignation. Hermione furrowed her brow.

"Why do you say that?"

"You can't—dinosaur DNA in mosquitoes? Why the fuck would you want to bring back an exstinct species that could grind these muggles into mince meat?"

"It's a _movie_, Draco, not real life," she answered calmly. "And if you were paying any attention you'd remember that this is a _theme park_ they're building. They thought they could control an extinct ecosystem."

"My arse," he muttered darkly. "Tossers. The only person in this mover that has a brain is the bloke with the black glasses."

"_Movie_, Draco, not mover."

"Pff."

Hermione ignored his snarky remarks, only because she found them so hilarious. Eventually he grew very serious, and watched in earnest when the T-Rex broke out of the fence and ate the lawyer.

Never in a million years did she dream that she would be eating a Christmas dinner and watching television with Malfoy. At _her_ house, no less! Nor, she thought with reluctant admission, did she think it would be this fun. Draco was positively enjoying himself, even though he put up the sardonic façade nearly every second he was with her. When he was around, she briefly forgot about her father, and her mother that was still in the hospital.

She did wonder what had made him think of her enough to come over to her house. With food, as well. He had gone out of his way to spend Christmas with her. And she _had_ noticed that there were some new bruises on his pale face, though there were very faint and barely noticeable.

What had happened to him?

"Malfoy," she said softly, and he turned his head to look at her. "What happened?" She gazed along the sides of his face, and he understood what she was referring to.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about."

Hermione nearly blanched at the choice of word 'pretty', but ignored it. "Come on. I told you about me. It's only fair."

"I didn't ask for you to tell me, Granger," he ground out, irritation heightening on his face. "You did that all on your own. I owe you nothing."

"Why do you keep dodging the question? Why is it so hard for you to open up to others?" cried Hermione. The movie flickering on the television was long forgotten as the pair grew angrier by the minute.

"And what makes you think I want to open up to _you_?" he spat. She could hear the old hatred return in his voice and in his gaze, one she was very familiar with.

Hermione's gaze darkened. "Right," she said coldly, "why on earth would you want to tell a snarky little mudblood know-it-all anything, right? Is that why you came here, Malfoy? What happened to your other friends? Too ashamed to let little Draco into their house, especially after his father was sent very publicly to Azkaban? Must be _tough_."

"You don't know a _thing_ about me, Granger!" he shouted. "Stop acting like you do!"

"I would if you would just talk to me!" she yelled back.

"I don't need you!" Draco's voice boomed loudly. "I fucking hate you!"

Hermione sprang up from her seat and raised her arm to the front door. "Get out of my house."

"With pleasure," Draco sneered and stood towering over her. "Have fun cleaning all this shit off the plates, Granger. That's the only thing you're good for. Cleaning muck up."

A loud smack echoed in the air and Draco's head was turned to the side. A red haze started to form on his already bruised cheek. He turned his head back to gaze at her murderously. "You will pay for that."

"Oh will I?" she laughed sarcastically. "But isn't this what you're used to, Draco? People _pushing_ you around?" She demonstrated her words with a hard shove against his chest and he stumbled one step back. Fire flared in his eyes.

"I'm warning you," his voice went dangerously low, and she saw no hint of emotion in his eyes.

"Oh, boy, Draco Malfoy is warning me. I am so _scared_," she pushed him again, "of what might _happen_," another push, "to poor little _me_," she pushed him roughly and gasped when he grabbed her arms and shoved her back. She stumbled backwards clumsily.

"I'm glad you see my sentiment," he growled, approaching her. Fear gripped her as she saw the dark look flit over his eyes. "Because you _should_ be very, very scared."

"Oh no, what are you going to do? Hex me? Torture me? So very _frightening_," she spat as he loomed over her. She had to tilt her neck to keep in contact with his eyes.

"What ever happened to your father, Hermione?" he asked innocently. She froze. "I recall you confessing something very shocking to me while you cried pathetically all over my shoulder. What was it?" He tapped his chin in thought. " 'It was my father,'" he mimicked in a high, desperate voice. " 'It's my fault he's dead. I want him back!'" His face settled into a sneer. "Oh my, we _are_ in trouble, aren't we?"

"Shut up," she glared up at him, her throat tightening.

"But how could I? You killed your own father, Hermione? How does that make you feel? Watching the life go out of your dad's eyes, never taking another breath again. My father may be in prison, but at least he's alive. You're just a murderer."

"SHUT UP!" she screamed and punched his chest in earnest, pushing and shoving, doing anything to harm him. He caught her wrists easily and stilled her angry movements.

"Oh dear, looks like I've struck a nerve," he mocked.

"At least I'm not Voldemort's butt boy," she hissed, noting in satisfaction that his face hardened. "I wonder why daddy dearest went to Azkaban in the first place, huh? Oh, but Drakey-poo wouldn't know, he was too busy wiping Umbridge's shoes."

"You don't know anything!" he screamed and pushed her roughly, her back colliding against the wall. Her wrists were still trapped in his hands and he pinned them to the sides of her head. "You weren't born into this! You don't know what it's like!"

"At least I have a mind of my own!" she shouted back. "I don't follow orders like some sick puppy!"

"You think I _want_ any of this?" he whispered harshly. "You think I want this _fucking tattoo_," he briefly released her to lift up the sleeve of his left arm, and a snake was faintly slithering out of a skull. Her eyes widened in shock and she grew still. He roughly pushed the sleeve back down and glowered at her. "Tell me, what would you do when they take _your_ mum away? Tell me how _you_ would save her." Hermione watched him in shock. "Nothing?" he said bitterly, and she remained silent. "It's never easy. It's not going to get easy. But at least _I_ haven't given up."

Draco leaned away from her slightly, scowling down at her. "I have lost _everything_ I have ever loved. The only person I have ever loved. I don't care what I have to do to get her back. I don't care how many bruises I'm given, or how many times I have to look in the eye of the man who is tearing apart this world. If it means I can have my mother back, I'll take my chances of being Voldemort's _butt boy._"

Silence echoed loudly between them as they fought to catch their breath. Hermione watched as Draco ran a hand through his hair and gripped it tightly, torturously. She saw his shoulders sag as if a weight had been lifted off of her as he took a ragged breath. When he lifted his eyes to meet hers, she saw the stormy silvery gaze that filled her with an unknown emotion that she had never experienced before. Something in his eyes shattered, something that left him looking vulnerable and lost and yet determined all the same. He looked like a boy who had to grow up too fast, much like she knew Harry had to.

That same desperation. That same melancholic agony. That same glimmer of hope.

Before she could think rationally, Hermione took a step toward him. Draco's eyes snapped to hers, watching her guardedly, and then widened in surprise as she lifted shaking hands to his face. She touched the soft, delicate skin, fingers trailing lightly over him, leaving a burning sensation down his cheeks. Then, before either of them could protest, she tilted his head down and rose on her tiptoes, pressing her lips gently against his.

All rational thought flew out of his mind as he felt Hermione kissing him ever so softly. He had kissed her before, but those had been rough, passionate, angry kisses. Coming from her, this was completely unexpected, especially after all the hateful words he had thrown at her. Vaguely the back of his mind registered that he should be disgusted and should pull away immediately, but instead he closed his eyes.

It did not last long and a few seconds later she pulled away from him, gazing deeply into his eyes. Draco didn't know what to do or what to say. She leaned into his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, gently comforting him by embracing him. Slowly she felt his own arms wrap around her waist and he pulled her to him, burying his nose into her hair, breathing in deeply the scent of lilac.

He didn't know how long they stood like that, or why they continued to when both of them had gotten off the adrenaline rush.

She pulled away slightly and looked at him with concern written in her gaze. "Draco, I—"

A sharp _crack_ interrupted her words as a small house-elf appeared before them.

"Lola has come at twelve o'clock, exactly as Master commanded," the tiny creature bowed. Draco stepped away from Hermione, his arms falling to his sides as he glanced at the clock. Exactly twelve o'clock.

"Good job, Lola," he said softly. Hermione was now staring at him in mild surprise but remained silent. He walked over to the little elf and grasped her hand. He looked back at Hermione.

"I'll see you later," he said quietly, so softly that she almost didn't hear him. She nodded and he looked down at the house-elf.

"Let's go."

Hermione watched them disappear in the blink of an eye, leaving her alone in the living room.

So much had transpired so quickly. She never knew…never knew how it had been for him…

Her mind wandered back to when he had pulled his sleeve up to reveal the Dark Mark on his porcelain skin. It only seemed to register now.

Draco was a Death Eater.

Draco Malfoy was a _Death Eater_.

She bounded up the staircase and went into her room, taking out a quill and parchment and began scribbling furiously to Harry. She read it a few times and shakily sealed it closed.

But before she reached her owl to tie the letter to its leg, she paused.

Draco may have the mark, but did that _really_ warrant him as a Death Eater?

As she recalled her evening with him, and all the things he had unwittingly confessed to her, she dared not move. The owl was glaring at her and retreated its leg in frustration. Hermione took a step back, and slowly walked into the bathroom.

Taking a lighter out of the cabinet, she brought the flame close to the letter. It began to burn, the parchment enveloped into black, charred paper. She dropped it in the trash bin once it was too hot to keep holding, the flames threatening to lick her fingers.

The letter destroyed, Hermione brushed her teeth and retreated back into the living room, clearing the coffee table and washed each plate and pan rigorously. Shutting off the T.V. and the lights, Hermione retreated into her bedroom and pulled the covers over her, staring blankly at the ceiling.

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><p><strong>First off, the response I got for this story was just...unreal. I was grinning like a madman when I read your reviews. I'm glad you guys like this story, and to be honest I didn't really expect as much loving as I got from you amazing Dramione lovers! Also I tried updating earlier than usual this time. Hopefully I did the chapter justice.<strong>

**Expect some hot mess of drama next chapter.**

**Reviews are love! **


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